Assassin
by NimbusStormx
Summary: When 16-year-old Arachne Messer is assigned her next target, she must attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in order to kill him. But what if she can't fend off her feelings in time? Set during Half-Blood Prince, follow Arachne's story as she unravels the truth surrounding a certain group of Slytherins. DM/OC
1. Prologue

_A/N: Hi there! Just a note to explain my story a little: it's set during Half-Blood Prince, and while I will try and stay true to the books (in a way) this will inevitably become AU (if you don't consider it to be already). This is not the first fic I've written, however it's the first on this site and I welcome all feedback. Also, updates will be slow as I'm at uni and during term time I tend to get drowned in work, but I will try to upload chapters as often as I can. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything by J.K. Rowling however much I wish I do._

The young man gulped in fear. He didn't want to be there, standing in his own dining room of all places. On the contrary, he wished to be anywhere but there.

Before him stood a slithering wreck of a man – a mere shell of a human being, with evil exuding from every pore. His snake-like eyes examined the young man with an unnerving expression, and the young man suppressed a shiver.

The room was dimly lit, with the curtains drawn closed over the domineering windows and the candles in the silver chandelier burning low. Out of the corner of his eye, the young man could see his mother standing stoically by the mantelpiece. He knew how much effort it took for her to remain impassive in the presence of the Dark Lord, and felt fierce pride burn a through his chest at her ability to withhold her emotions so well.

"Stand before me, boy." The hybrid-human ordered, taking a seat at the head of the shining mahogany table.

"Yes, master." The young man replied and obeyed his command.

"Show me your left forearm." The young man knew what was about to happen. He had been dreading this moment since he was a child.

He did as he was told and rolled the left sleeve of his black blazer up to his elbow slowly and deliberately. The man before him grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip and dug the tip of his wand into a vein.

The snake-man started muttering under his breath, and pain shot through the point where the wand was touching the young man's pale skin. He forced himself to breathe and not to show any type of reaction, but it was almost impossible. Dark swirls started to form on the surface of his skin, effortlessly gliding into a pattern. Before long, there was the symbol of the Dark Mark etched onto his arm, intricate and sinister, and the Dark Lord released him and sat back smugly in his chair.

The young man stared at his forearm, not quite believing that he had actually gone through with the procedure after many years of hearing about it. He felt tainted, violated and as though a poison, a toxic substance was spreading through his body from the point of contact. A voice in his head told him that this was a mistake, not that anything could be done about it now. Not that anything could have been done about it before, for that matter.

"I have great plans for you..." The Dark Lord said in a voice that grated on the young man's every nerve. "Yes, great plans indeed. You will do well to listen to me when I say that the more efficiently you work, the greater the rewards will be." The Dark Lord turned to survey the young man through his narrow ruby eyes. "However, if you don't cooperate, there will be...repercussions." He flicked his gaze to the young man's mother, who's knuckles turned white where they were clutching a handkerchief behind her back.

"Yes, My Lord" The young man said robotically. The thought of this _creature_ anywhere near his mother made him feel sick.

"Good. Now, for your first mission." The hybrid nodded once and his repulsive snake took up residence on the arm of his chair threateningly.

The young man's heart pounded. He hoped the mission wouldn't be anything too difficult, so he could pledge his allegiance to the Dark Lord with ease. His side in the inevitable war was pre-determined, however that didn't mean the Dark Lord was above hurting his mother if he didn't perform.

"You, boy, are to take a life. An important life that is a huge threat to our campaign." He paused to let the words sink in. They did, and anxiety blossomed in the young man's stomach as he felt the soon-to-be familiar pressure settle on his shoulders for the first time.

"An assassination, if you will..."

Meanwhile, halfway across the globe, a young woman pushed slowly through the revolving doors into Miami International Airport with a small suitcase in tow and a bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around at the endless lines of sweaty, clammy people waiting to check in and, with a sigh, joined a particularly large line full of people travelling to Heathrow Airport, London, UK.

An hour later, the young woman had managed to successfully pass through customs, which the other travellers would have found surprising considering there were lethal weapons strapped to the inside lining of her suitcase. She also had knives in her rucksack and her wand in her back pocket, all of which went undetected.

Walking through a long aisle of shops, she surveyed the crowds. Children were screaming – some out of excitement, some out of sadness, and parents were irritably trying to calm them. The smell of greasy fast-food wafted over from a nearby McDonald's, and electronic screens displaying the flight times covered available walls in abundance, glaring at every passer-by.

A man in a hurry travelled the opposite way to the young woman and the flow of the crowd. He had a laptop bag clutched protectively against his chest and was asking people if they had seen a little girl, alone, about five years old. When the man approached the young woman, he asked her the same, however she had seen so many children running about the place that she couldn't possibly tell him whether his was anywhere near.

The man thanked her, and in his rush past the young woman, he bumped into her shoulder, dropping a manila folder into her hand in the process. He did not look back and continued on his way as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as did she.

Once locked safely inside a toilet cubicle, the young woman opened the folder tentatively. She pulled out the document and started the process of memorising every single detail about her next target.


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N: Another chapter so soon, aren't you lucky? I have about 7 chapters of this story written and the last few need editing quite a bit, but the first few should be out fairly quickly. Let me know what your initial thoughts are on Arachne._

_Also disclaimer: I do not own anything that J.K. Rowling thought of, unfortunately. _

I wake to a loud knocking on the thick wooden door of my room.

"Get up. Today's the day." I hear Tom, who I think is the owner of this place, call then clunk down the hallway with that limp of his. I blink my eyes open and yawn for a few minutes before rolling out of the uncomfortable single bed. I pad to the bathroom and start brushing my teeth.

Today is the day. The day I start my new mission, and my most important one yet. I recall back to the file Tony handed me in the airport just under two weeks ago:

_Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_Age: 16_

_Height: 6'2"_

_Appearance: Strong, lean, blond hair, grey eyes, pale complexion, Dark Mark imprinted on left forearm_

_Residence: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_House: Slytherin_

_Status: Pureblood_

_Rank: 7_

_Timeframe: Maximum 6 months_

_THIS DOCUMENT IS HIGHLY CLASSIFIED AND MUST BE DESTROYED IMMEDIATELY AFTER USE._

Of course, I followed instruction and destroyed it right after by burning it with my wand and flushing the ashes down the toilet, but the details would be forever etched into my brain. Along with this was a picture of my target (which I also burnt) and letter from my parents explaining just how much they were relying on me with this mission.

Given, he is tall and athletic, but I could probably take him if it came down to a fight. A duel, not so much. I'm a rubbish dueller, and try to avoid it at all costs. His eyes are a gunmetal grey and they sliced right through me as if they knew all my secrets when I memorised that picture. His blond hair is coiffed to the side and rather wavy, and his pallor suggests long hours being spent indoors. Despite his paleness, though, he is attractive. But that's all he can be.

I finish brushing my teeth and wash my face. I have never had a Rank 7 before and I'm worrying a little about it because this is the most difficult target I've been tasked with so far. The ranking system works between 1 and 10: 1 being the easiest and 10 being the hardest. Also, the longest I've ever been on a job is three months, so I'm hoping that this won't take the full six months I've been given. I can't afford to get too attached, especially when I think about the possible impact of this one.

That thought sets me on edge, and I pack my wash bag three times before emerging from the bathroom back into the cramped bedroom. I have the cheapest room available because our family budget is running low. Assassinations don't pay as much as they used to, and the Messer family have come up short in regards to acquiring work lately. However, I'm not complaining. What's that saying again? _Second class riding is better than first class walking_.

I drag my newly bought trunk out from under the cot-like bed, and open it to start packing, the golden initials _A.M_ glinting in the sunlight that's peeping through the khaki moth-eaten curtains. I get dressed into jeans and a t-shirt while chucking things about the room, and eventually I am done. I check the room one last time to make sure I haven't forgotten anything before grabbing my key, my trunk and my jacket, and leaving.

I creak down the precariously built stairs into the bar area and walk over to where Tom is scrubbing a table with a ragged cloth, breathing heavily as if he's been doing strenuous activity.

"You all set?" He wheezes.

"Yes, thank you." I smile at him and he stops cleaning to straighten up. Well, as straight as hecan, anyway. I hand him my room key and he returns a toothy smile.

"You've already paid, haven't you?"

"Yes." I answer, and shift my trunk a little. "Thank you for letting me stay for so long." A lot of hotels wouldn't bat an eye if I stayed two weeks, but I can't imagine anyone willingly staying in this run down B&B for this much time.

"No problem. It was nice to have you around." He hobbles over to the bar. "Enjoy Hogwarts!" He calls as he leaves through a doorway.

I walk out of the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London, not knowing if I can get to King's Cross Station through Diagon Alley. I hail a taxi, and a cab pulls up next to the pavement in no time. I climb into the backseat with my trunk which the driver, a middle-aged balding man, eyes suspiciously.

"Where to?" He asks me, looking in his rear-view mirror.

"King's Cross Station." I reply, and he pulls into the busy flow of traffic.

During the car ride I am nervous, which I shouldn't be because I kill people for a living, but I manage to suppress the jittery feeling with my rituals. I count all of the prime numbers up to a thousand, which calms me a little. I name all of the kings and queens of England in chronological order, and that helps also. I'm halfway through listing all the London tube stations in alphabetical order when the cab driver stops the car.

"We're here." He grunts.

I hand over my money through the gap in the transparent partition, then get out of the taxi with a quick, "Cheers," and walk into the station without looking back. I pass by the ticket windows and sneak through the turnstiles ridiculously easily, ducking my head down and walking quickly but sure-footedly through the morning crowd.

I stop soon after to look at a map of the station and locate platforms 9 and 10. I soon find them and make my way down there, acquiring a trolley for my trunk along the way. I reach the stretch of concrete between 9 and 10, pull out my parents' letter from the pocket of my jacket, and scan the through my mother's neat handwriting. In the letter, there are details of how to get to nine-and-three-quarters, and it says to run at the barrier between the two platforms, about halfway down the concrete strip. I double check the letter to make sure I'm reading correctly, and not about to make a fool of myself, before making my way to where I estimate to be about halfway down.

I tuck the letter into the back pocket of my jeans then take a breath, preparing for this. I look at the wall, then around at the muggles to make sure nobody is looking, and start a run up. I shut my eyes at the very last minute, bracing myself for impact, when I feel nothing. I slow to a stop, half expecting to have missed the barrier completely and still be on the concrete stretch of platform, and I open my eyes. Looking around, I know I'm definitely not in the muggle world.

Everywhere I look people are wearing robes of every colour imaginable, and various animals are squawking, screeching and clicking in different cages and boxes. A giant scarlet-red steam engine is on the track next to the platform and the sunlight kisses it, making it look like it was only made yesterday. Teenagers are pushing to get on, struggling with their trunks, or saying goodbye to their parents.

Parents. How I wish mine were here to see me go to Hogwarts.

I gently shove people out of the way on my way to the train and ditch the trolley when it becomes too difficult to manoeuvre, resorting to carrying my belongings. I push past crying eleven-year-olds, step around a pool of vomit, and stand on so many feet that I lose count. I finally reach the train, and use one of the handles by the door to pull myself up and out of the mayhem which seems to be the 1st of September.

I wander down the centre aisle, towing my trunk behind me and looking for a compartment to sit in. About a quarter of the way down, I find an empty one, and enter with a relieved sigh. I lift my trunk, which is actually quite light, and slide it into one of the racks lining the upper walls of the compartment. Then I shrug my jacket on and slouch into a seat next to the window. I look out at all the families hugging, crying, waving goodbye, and my chest constricts with longing. Longing to be normal. Longing to be naive and untainted.

I hear a high pitched whistle and, if this is possible, the crowd becomes more frantic, with people rushing around and pressing into the doorways as if this will get them on the train quicker. I survey them as they do this, looking for a possible threat. You never know, the ministry might have planted operatives as students, and I wouldn't put it past them with recent events. Nobody looks suspicious however I do get a glimpse of my target.

The subject in question is walking slowly to a doorway about two thirds of the way down the train. A tall blonde woman, who I presume is his mother, is following him with a tight grip on his arm, and there are tears streaking down her face. At first, I think she is crying because he's going away for months, and that it's a regular thing, but then I remember; his father's in Azkaban. The poor woman must be awfully lonely, and her only son is leaving her to a large, empty mansion. I empathise with her – I know what it's like to spend months on your own.

He looks around him before hugging the woman, and I swear I see a small tear slide out of the corner of his eye. I'm not sure though, because he then pulls back with the Malfoy smirk on his face. Oh yes, I've heard stories about that smirk from family, but it's even better in person than what my cousins have told me. Of course, they attend Beauxbatons, but there was a Tri-Wizard tournament and they told me all about it.

His mother turns and walks away brusquely, and I'm waiting for him to get on the giant steam engine when he starts scanning the platform and the train for something. I know that look from years of giving it myself. He thinks someone is watching him.

I duck out of the window, but not before he makes eye contact with me, and I'm momentarily frozen. His eyes widen a bit, and I can't help but notice that they're stormier than the picture. More brooding and intense. He scowls lightly at me before turning and climbing onto the train, and I feel like a bolt of lightning has just struck me.

Contain it, I tell myself. He is nothing, just a stupid target, albeit with a gorgeous face, and a gorgeous smirk and...

No.

Soon, he'll be dead. And it will be at my hand.

The train lurches forward, and I'm brought back to my senses. Noisy children are talking loudly and screaming, some still crying from the departure. The smell of smoke permeates the air, and I reach up and slam the window closed with more force than intended. That boy has put me even more on edge than I already was.

I stretch out on one of the cushioned benches, and stare at the wooden slats lining the ceiling. I need to get my head together and make a plan. I want the job done as soon as possible, but tonight seems too soon. All eyes will be on the new girl at the Welcome Feast and I don't fancy my chances. Maybe I should give it a few days until everything settles down.

Poison seems to be the best choice of weapon. I will slip it in his morning pumpkin juice somehow, and no-one will be any the wiser. The thought of him foaming at the mouth while slowly dying suddenly pops into my head and I get an unfamiliar feeling. Is this remorse? Regret? I drift asleep with these thoughts whirling through my mind, the world gradually fading into darkness and dissolving into nothing.

I step off the train at Hogsmeade and onto the platform to be greeted by anarchy for the second time that day. A gargantuan bearded man is standing at the end of the platform yelling something about the Lake, children are running wild, and I'm stood still like a statue in the midst of it all, my brand new robes billowing in the wind. Do I get in the carriages being pulled by weird, skeletal horse-thingies like my peers? Or do I follow the First Years to the boats?

I decide on the carriages, since I don't feel like drowning tonight.

I push past rowdy adolescents, figuring out rather quickly that being delicate or polite here just won't cut it. I trip on the hem of my robes a couple of times since I'm not used to the heavy weight of them on my shoulders or to the fact that they are so long they brush along the floor as I walk. They are very hindering and I make a mental note to ditch them as soon as I can.

I reach the gravelly incline after shoving more people than I care to count and hoist myself up into the nearest carriage. Once seated, a mousy looking girl, who looks to be about thirteen, gazes up at me from the path, her dark haired friend joining soon after.

I don't know what to do, so I offer them a seat in the carriage, since they are obviously not First Years. They accept my offer and clamber hastily into the carriage, and we immediately set off once they have sat down.

They sit across from me and whisper furiously to each other for the duration of the ride, and I know they are talking about me. The New Girl. It's very rare that someone changes schools so late in their education, and even rarer still for anyone to transfer to Hogwarts. I'm not a transfer student, but that's my story so I don't stop them when they begin to speculate about which school I switched from.

I have been home schooled for as long as I can remember. Will I be behind everyone else? Will they laugh at me for being slow? I shouldn't even be worrying about this - I don't plan on sticking around for very long. Anyway, it's not like I don't have any job prospects. I'm basically set up for life as it is, and I'm just over a week away from turning seventeen.

The skeleton-horse stops abruptly, causing the cart to throw its occupants from their seats. Well, the untrained, innocent, been-going-to-Hogwarts-since-they-were-eleven occupants. Much to their chagrin, I manage to remain seated. The girls stare at me wide-eyed and struggle to climb off as quickly as they can, and I don't know why. However, I banish this thought from my mind for the time being as I finally lay eyes on the castle I have heard so much about.

It's _big_. That is all I can think as I am rendered speechless by the sheer size of the place. Towers of all shapes and sizes jut out of the structure, pointing upwards into the night sky, almost in an accusatory manner. The actual building is made of a smooth looking stone, and it curves and bends to accommodate the variously-shaped towers. Bringing my gaze back down to earth, I look at the expansive grounds; the long, sloping fields, the never-ending dark forest and the Lake, where ripples in the moonlit surface lap at the banks softly as slim boats glide towards the castle.

I am in awe of this magical place. I have seen pictures, even bought books in my research since I found out about this mission, but none of them do it any justice.

I realise that I'm still sitting in the carriage, gaping at my surroundings like an idiot while everyone else are making their way into the giant structure. I shut my mouth and get out of the cart, not entirely sure where I'm meant to be going next. It doesn't matter as I end up getting jostled forward by students anyway.

I walk up the steps and have just entered the castle itself when I feel a hand clamp around my upper arm. I snap my head to the side to see a shrewd looking woman with her salt-and-pepper hair pulled tightly into a severe bun. She wears glasses on the end of her nose, and her eyes are scrutinizing.

"I'm Professor McGonagall, and I presume you are Arachne Messer, the new sixth year student." She says with a clipped Scottish accent. When I make an affirmative noise, she continues, "I will be conducting the sorting this evening, so you will need to follow me now along with the First Years."

Before I can answer, she lets go of my arm and turns to gather said First Years, then she speaks to us as a group: "We are now about to enter the Great Hall where you will be sorted." The children are hanging on to her every word. "There are four houses, and you will be a member of one of them for the duration of your time at Hogwarts. There is a points system in place, so all of your efforts should be in trying to win house points, and not lose them, and at the end of every year the House Cup is awarded. Your house will be where you spend the majority of your time, and you should keep it in your best interests to contribute to your house accordingly."

The group all break out in whispers and quiet discussion, and Professor McGonagall has to raise her voice to be heard over the nervous chatter. "The four houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff. But remember, it doesn't matter what house you are sorted into, at Hogwarts everyone is considered equal." She surveys the group over the top of her spectacles, before turning sharply on her heel, and opening the tall, heavy doors leading into the Great Hall with a flourish.

As I traipse in after the crowd of eleven-year-olds, I can't take my eyes of the ceiling. It is showing the night sky – the exact same as outside, and I remember reading that it's enchanted to look like that. I then look at the four long wooden tables, each sporting their own colour; the far right is decked with yellow, the next with red, the third with blue and the last one with green.

My parents attended Hogwarts and were both in Slytherin, but I don't want to be in that house. They had told me of all the pureblood propaganda when they were at school, and that was the reason they became Death Eaters. They are not Death Eaters now; during the First Wizarding War, their allegiance didn't lie anywhere, but it now lies with the Order of the Phoenix. It is because of the First War that they became assassins, and when they realised the money was good, they carried it on.

_And forced it on me without asking._

I bury that thought deep into my subconscious. I can't afford to be thinking like that right now.

We collectively slow to a stop in front of a low stool and an old hat, which is perched upon it, begins to sing much to my surprise. I'm not listening, however, as I am looking past the stool and the lectern behind it towards a long wooden table, not unlike the house ones. Here the floor has been raised and a set of small steps the width of the hall lead up to it. In the very middle of the table sits Albus Dumbledore, probably the most famous wizard alive.

I don't recognise the other teachers, but I don't really have enough time to double check because the hat finishes its song, and my name is being called. I walk slowly up to McGonagall, the children parting for me as I go, and she turns to address the rest of the student body once I arrive at her.

"Miss Messer is a new sixth year student, and has transferred from...Where did you say, dear?" She asks me, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed.

"It's quite obscure." I shake my head convincingly and provide a dazzling smile.

She curtly nods her head and clears her throat. "Well, we will sort Miss Messer first as she is not a First Year."

Professor McGonagall picks up the frayed, worn hat and motions for me to sit on the stool. I lower myself onto it and stare out past the sea of faces in front of me, looking to the very back of the Hall. I feel a weight being placed on my head, and a small voice starts talking in my ear.

"Ah, a Sixth Year. Very interesting. Yes, very interesting indeed. You're intentions here are not pure. Hmmmm. You are kind...when you want to be. No, Hufflepuff will not do. Brave, yes, but only if your own life isn't at risk...Yes, there's a strong sense of self-preservation, Gryffindor will not be adequate for you."

My heart starts hammering in my chest and I'm hoping I'll get sorted into Ravenclaw. Yeah, I could fit in there, it's not like I'm completely without a brain cell.

"Yes, I agree you will do well in Ravenclaw." I am slightly shocked that the hat has read my mind, but it begins speaking again, so I don't have time to think about it. "But there is a lot of ambition here...Yes, and you can be quite manipulative when need be. You will do best in SLYTHERIN!" The hat yells this last part to the Hall, and students sitting at the table to the far right begin to cheer boisterously. The hat is lifted off my head and I am nudged in the direction of the whooping and hollering table decked in green.

I walk over on shaky legs and sit where some students have budged up to make a space for me. I am still reeling from shock; the one house I didn't want to be sorted into. I guess this is many years worth of karma finally catching up to me. But one good thing does come out of this: the subject is in the same house as me, and maybe it will make my job easier.

I hope.


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: New chapter yay! It gets more interesting in this one I promise. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything by J.K. Rowling, only my own lil character and some plot. _

Sleeping at night has always been an issue for me. I don't know whether it has something to do with the fact that I used to be scared of the dark, or because I don't have a definitive sleeping pattern due to the constant changes in time zone, but let me tell you: it's extremely annoying when you're feeling absolutely exhausted and your brain simply refuses to shut down.

It may also be due to the fact that I'm overly paranoid, which, of course, I have to be in my line of work. I sleep with a knife under my pillow, a gun in my bedside table and my wand within arm's reach. On a job, I'm a threat, and if my target or anyone involved gets wind of my intentions, they will most likely attack me. And the odds are they'll most likely attack me in my sleep.

Therefore, I can honestly say that I barely sleep on my first night in the Slytherin dorm.

A mixture of nerves and wariness keep me up, so I manage to read three of my new textbooks for the subjects I have chosen. I thought that if I took subjects such as Defence Against the Dark Arts, people would find out just how expansive my skill set is and that's the last thing I need. So instead I've opted for Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes and Divination.

I snap myself out of my thoughts as I change into my uniform, which has now adopted green for the tie and shows the Slytherin emblem rather than the generic school logo on the grey V-neck jumper. I decide to just wear my black trousers, white shirt, tie and jumper, and to leave the heavy robes worn over this uniform in my trunk.

I grab my bag and leave the dark dormitory, walking down a small flight of stairs to the Common Room. The Slytherin quarters are rather dark and, dare I say it, depressing, yet there is a sophisticated edge to everything. It may have something to do with the fact that it lies under the Lake, which casts a soft glow over the mahogany furniture and the plush grey carpet.

Students are milling about the Common Room and I scan them looking for Daphne Greengrass, my new 'friend' who wasn't in the dorm earlier. She was one of the students I sat with after being sorted last night, and after finding out we were the same age, I made sure to hit it off with her immediately. I find her leaning against one of the antique leather couches, talking to a blonde girl with a familiar face.

I saunter over, and Daphne grins at me as I approach. "Hey, Spider Girl."

Yeah, I have been here for less than twenty four hours and I already have a nickname. Last night, Daphne immediately picked up on the relation between my name and the arthropod and has been calling me Spider Girl since.

"Hey, Grass." I say, equally as teasing. "Who's this?"

After being sorted into Slytherin last night, I had quickly learnt that if I wanted to fit in here successfully, I had to act like I was the best thing that walked the Earth, tease and mock people wherever possible, and not act shy. _Never _act shy, or it'll be seen as a weakness to be exploited.

Daphne flips her honey-coloured hair over her shoulder and stands a little straighter. "This is Astoria. My little sister." She squeezes the girl's cheek on the word 'little', and the girl cringes, grumbling something incoherent.

I realise now why I thought the girl was slightly familiar; both Greengrass sisters look alike. The major differences between them being that Daphne is a couple of inches taller and has pale blue eyes rather than Astoria's chocolate brown ones.

"It's nice to meet you." I say with a smile.

Astoria confidently replies, "You too," before strutting off to join her friends.

"Sorry about her, she's fourteen and thinks we should all be worshipping the ground that she walks on," Daphne shakes her head tiredly at me.

"You were fourteen once." I raise an eyebrow.

"Can't argue with that." She steps forward, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Spider Girl, it is officially time for your first ever Hogwarts breakfast. Prepare to be mind blown."

I am steered towards the exit, and pushed through into the dungeon corridor beyond forcefully. I pretend to stumble before turning around, "There's no need for violence, Grass."

"Sorry, I'm a bit excited. And starving, now I think about it."

We tread through the dank hallways, and make our way up to ground level. Once there, I can actually notice the beautiful sculptures in the Entrance Hall in daylight, and the giant marble staircase leading to the higher floors takes my breath away. I want to stay here and examine every last detail, to store it in my memory forever, but I am dragged away to the Great Hall.

It's much quieter than last night, which I like, and the magical ceiling reflects the bright sunlight being filtered through the tall windows. Daphne and I sit opposite each other near the middle of the Slytherin table, and I feel many pairs of eyes on me. Daphne tells me to ignore them, and proceeds to grab me a plate and pile it with food which I 'absolutely must try', which seems to be everything in sight. She then sets it down back in front of me and asks, "Tea or coffee?"

I answer with, "Tea, thanks"

Daphne starts to make me a cup. I look down at what she's given me for breakfast: it consists of toast, bacon, sausage, baked beans, hash browns and a fried egg, and my mouth waters as I get a whiff of the delicious aromas travelling up from my plate.

"How do you take it?"

I tear my gaze away from the food reluctantly, and look at her. "Milk -"

I am cut off by a group of people surrounding us and sitting down, the extra weight making the benches creak and groan dangerously. I look at Daphne with a confused expression and she just laughs.

"This is our friend group. Last night was so busy that I never managed to get around to introducing you." She explains.

"Yeah, we're the best people you'll ever meet." Says a dapper looking boy who is now sat on Daphne's right. He is all clean lines and neat edges and is careful in his movements. I'd say he pays attention to details - I'll have to watch my back around him. He has dark skin, and his features suggest maybe a Southern European heritage. Spain? Italy?

"Well?" My preliminary assessment of this stranger is interrupted by Daphne.

"Milk, but not too much – only a dash – and no sugar, thanks." I say, thinking that she wants to finish making my tea so she can start eating her breakfast.

Everyone around me laughs, and I frown, "What?"

Daphne chuckles, "I asked you to introduce yourself, since you're new and everything. Not about your tea." A light smirk dances across her face.

I successfully stop a blush from rising to my cheeks, and shrug, "Oh, ok. In that case, I'm Arachne Messer."

The one next to Daphne smiles surprisingly nicely, and says, "I'm Blaise. Blaise Zabini." He then grabs a slice of toast and butters it.

A boy the other side of Daphne pipes up, "I'm Theodore Nott, but you can call me Theo." He says with a wink. He doesn't look as suave as Blaise, but doesn't exactly look bad either. He has soft brown hair flicked to the side, accentuating his high cheekbones and muddy green-brown eyes. I dub him as not too much of a threat, since he doesn't look as cutting as most of the other Slytherins I have seen thus far.

I smile at him sweetly and say, "Nice to meet you, _Theo_, but you're not my type." He clutches his chest as if he's wounded, but a friendly smile remains on his face

I see an outstretched hand out of the corner of my eye, the long purple talons looking worryingly sharp. "Pansy Parkinson."

I turn my head to see the owner of the hand: a petite girl with dark hair cut jaggedly just beneath her jawline. Her eyes look faintly Asian, but her fair skin suggests that she is predominantly British. She has a sneer on her face, making a potentially pretty girl look mean and unattractive.

I shake her hand, looking her in the eye. "Congratulations on making it into the best house." A faint hint of approval shines through her eyes before being buried again under the sneer. I am undecided whether I should be worried about her or if she's more bark than she is bite.

"Thank you." I say politely, not wanting to converse with this girl any more before turning to my other side, where I'm greeted with the sight of my target.

_Fuck._

With a smirk plastered across his face, he arrogantly says, "I'm Draco Malfoy. Welcome."

And just like that my heart picks up its pace exponentially. Had I known Daphne was friends with him I would have stayed away.

_It might be easier if you're closer to him, _a voice in my head counters.

His stormy eyes look dimmer today, but that doesn't take away from his handsomeness. Up close, I can see the way his hair looks soft and golden in the morning light. I have the strange urge to run my fingers through it.

"Thanks." I reply stiffly, and his smirk widens.

My stomach grumbles and I look back at Daphne. "You made my tea yet?"

"Yes. Here." She pushes it over to me, and I pick it up, taking a sip to calm the uncomfortable jittery feeling that's blossoming in my stomach. The hot liquid calms me slightly. I set it down and start tucking into my breakfast.

"So, Arachne, how are you liking Hogwarts so far? Is it better than your old school?" Theodore asks. I finish chewing a piece of bacon before answering him.

"It's... different." I take another sip of tea, figuring out how to phrase a good cover story. I had successfully managed to avoid it last night, but I can't dodge the questions much longer. "My old school was very modern and nothing at all like this place." I wave around me, gesturing to the castle.

"Where exactly is your old school?" Draco asks. I don't know whether it's my paranoia, but I swear I can hear an amused tone in his voice.

I lean back a little on the bench and say mysteriously, "I'd tell you... but then I'd have to kill you." I'm only half-joking, but I wiggle my eyebrows a little to make it look like it's one-hundred percent in jest.

It works, and everyone around me laughs, even if Pansy's laugh is more of a whiny snicker. I join in with them, glad I managed to put off answering just a little longer. We all go back to eating our breakfasts, but then Blaise asks me, "Seriously, where is it?"

I shrug, "I honestly couldn't tell you. To get there, you have to catch a boat from the very south of Florida, and it's on an island, but if you showed me a map I wouldn't be able to point it out." This school did actually exist, and it would explain my tan if I had moved from Florida. Also, my last mission was there, so it would be easy to remember this legend. I just have to hope now that nobody has any relatives in that school.

But they don't and they all buy it and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. I finish my tea and make another one, and Daphne starts talking to me, "I think you'll fit in well here. You're lucky you got us, we can tell you who's who, and all the gossip."

At this I smile sarcastically. If I act like I'm not interested, she'll be begging me to gossip about what's happening with other students, and I'll get more information than I would otherwise.

Daphne rolls her eyes, "I should've known. You don't look like the type who cares about this stuff. But I'll tell you it all anyway, maybe I can convert you."

I scoff and say haughtily, "I doubt that"

"Oh, challenge accepted, Spider Girl." She raises her mug of coffee in a toast, and I _clink_ it with my fresh mug of tea, the delicate chime of porcelain ringing getting lost in the din of the hall.

"But as I was saying," Daphne continues, "You should be glad you got us. I can't imagine you fitting in with the Hufflepuffs."

Pansy pipes up randomly, "Why do you call her Spider Girl?"

Theodore rolls his eyes. "Even I know this." He mutters, and everyone laughs. He must be intellectually challenged, or something.

Daphne throws me an exasperated look, as if she has to do this often, then explains to Pansy, "Arachne is a name from Greek mythology. She lost a bet or something and she ended up getting turned into a spider. It's said that all the spiders in the world are her offspring."

"Bloody hell, you really know your mythology." I comment, surprised that she knows so much about the topic.

Daphne grins proudly and Pansy asks, "So her name is like Draco's?"

His name sends another wave of anxiety through me. Why am I letting him affect me so much? I can't feel anything for him; my family is depending on my success. I try to quell all of these conflicting emotions and focus on my tea.

"I guess it is." Blaise says smoothly. "His name is a dragon in Greek mythology, isn't that right, mate?" He looks at my target.

"Yeah, but the dragon dies." He states morbidly, and I can't help but notice the irony of it. Everyone laughs, including me, apart from him. Does he know something?

"Why is it that all Greek myths end in tragedy?" Theodore asks wryly.

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure Daphne's name is Greek as well." I answer.

"Hit me with it then. How do I die?" She sighs resignedly and leans her head on her hand, and I grin at her.

"Don't think she dies, to be fair. Maybe ends up as a tree."

Blaise adds, "Yeah, I can't remember the details but think Apollo had a thing for her."

Pansy, who still has a confused look on her face, states. "I don't understand -"

At this, they all begin talking to her and arguing. I can tell from their exasperated tones that this happens a lot, and I zone out at "You need to clean your ears out, babe."

I survey the rest of the hall, and my eyes land on the one and only Harry Potter. I might not have attended Hogwarts for years, but I certainly haven't been living under a rock somewhere, so of course I know who he is. I must say, he isn't as impressive in real life as the stories and the pictures. But he is our only salvation against Voldemort, and I'll take what I can get.

I'm snapped out of my daze by Pansy clicking her fingers in front of my face. "Don't tell me you have a thing for Wonder Boy, the Muggle Lover."

I know it won't end well if I say I'm not bothered about it – I have to assert myself as a valuable friend if I want to remain in their circle, and to do that I have to be anti-Potter.

"Of course not, I don't see what's so special about him." I must not have sounded sure of myself because a couple of them send me dubious looks, so I add, "He's a skinny guy with glasses and a mark on his head. I was looking at him thinking, 'How the hell could he bring down the Dark Lord?'"

They all snicker at this, and I can't help but feel smug at how well I am able to lie.

My target's smirk transforms into a grimace, "You'd be surprised at the tricks up his sleeve."

"Yeah, he always finds a loophole," Blaise agrees.

"But you don't need to worry about that." Daphne adds with complete self-belief in her words. "You're on the winning side."

_Oh, really? What about when I kill one of your own and am halfway across the country before you realise? Will you be winning then?_ It surprises me at how easy I've managed to assimilate, but I still need to keep my guard up. I'd be a fool to think that this is as difficult as it's going to get.

I nod convincingly at them all. "You're right. We're young, we shouldn't be in this mess. We should be having a good time, and living while we still can."

"That's the spirit," Theodore smiles at me and I smile back at them all, silently pleading that I'm away from these crazy people before I go insane myself.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: Next chapter! This whole story needs going through and editing but my aim is to just finish it all first haha._

_Disclaimer: Again, J.K Rowling owns basically everything. _

I manage to get through the rest of the week without calling too much attention to myself, and by the time Saturday rolls around all the whispers about me have died down. The homework load for Monday is much less than I thought it would be which has given me extra time to worry about my mission.

It is early afternoon and I'm currently sitting outside on the grass with Daphne and Theo. We are propped against one of the humungous stone walls of the castle, and the sun is beating down on my face, which causes me to squint unattractively. It's also very hot and I find myself fantasising about an imaginary breeze to cool me down.

"Why don't we sit by the lake? It looks much nicer there. I think there's even a slight breeze." I voice to nobody in particular.

Daphne gives me an incredulous look over her thickly-rimmed sunglasses, then resumes painting her nails a deep shade of crimson.

_The exact same shade as blood._

As soon as the thought pops into my head, it exits just as rapidly.

Theo, who is sitting in front of us with his back to the sun, tilts his head to the side and sighs heavily, "_Arachne_."

"What?" I shrug.

"There are two reasons why we don't sit there. Reason number one: with all the time we spend below ground, and the stupidity of the British weather, we don't see the sun very often, so when we do, we like to catch as many rays as possible. We managed to work out in our Third Year that this very spot, out of the entire Hogwarts grounds, gives the best tan."

Ok, was _not_ expecting that.

Theo grins at me sardonically, his pearly white teeth flashing in my direction, "Reason number two: Potter and his gang sit there."

I laugh a little, "But there's a whole lake. I'm sure Potter and his gang take up, like, a fraction of the area around it."

Daphne is halfway to face-palming when she realises that her nails are still wet. Theo clarifies, "It doesn't matter. Do you know how many people stalk him? Do you know how many girls fancy him? Do you know how many_ boys_ fancy him? It doesn't matter where he is, he'll always have an army of admiring fans not far away. You want proof? Look over there now and tell me how many of them there are."

I do as he says and look, with difficulty since the sun is still in my eyes, at the bank of the lake. Potter is sitting underneath a tree with his friends and all around him, even as far as the opposite side of the body of water, there are students ranging from twelve to seventeen, all casting glances over to him every now and again, all flipping their hair over their shoulders and smiling a little too wide.

I look back to Theo and raise an eyebrow, "Do they really think they'll all get a chance with Wonder Boy?"

"If I said yes, would you be surprised?"

I smirk, "No."

"Then there's your answer." Theo leans back and rests on his palms, stretching his legs out in front of him lazily. "It's much more relaxing without the whispers about Potter."

I nod at the group by the lake, "Have you always hated him? I mean, from day one or is it because the Dark Lord is back?" Anybody else might've shivered or hesitated at the name, but I don't. I've seen death so often that fearing something as trivial as a name seems silly to me.

Daphne scrunches her nose up and says, "We all disliked him in the beginning – not because he was a horrible person, but because of a mixture of what our parents told us about him and jealousy. He always seemed so happy despite the fact he's had nothing his whole life. We do hate him now though, of course, because of the return of the Dark Lord."

I nod because I understand completely. I know what it's like to not be allowed to choose how to feel, and because I've pushed my own feelings down for so long, I don't think I remember how to feel.

"Do any of you guys want to be Death Eaters?" I ask naively.

The two share a look which I can't quite read. Theo says hesitantly, "Of course we do, we all do in Slytherin. Unless we've been recruited already."

Daphne sends Theo a death glare and says, "That's nothing you need to worry over, Arachne. They won't recruit you because you haven't been in the area long enough." She sounds like she is trying to convince herself as much as she's trying to convince me.

"But what if I want to be a Death Eater?" I hazard, testing the waters.

Daphne turns to face me so fast that I'm surprised she doesn't get whiplash. "Listen to me and listen well. You. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. A. Death. Eater. You need to get that thought out of your head, ok? You need to wake up and realise how lucky you are. Even just being in this school right now is a bad idea. You need to keep your head down and make it to the end of your NEWTs. You do not want to get involved, if you can help it." She says this all in a hushed voice, leaning forward on with her elbows on her knees.

Hearing her say all of that makes my heart feel funny. She cares about me. She's known me less than a week, and she's worried for my safety. I realise that Daphne is a better person than I'll ever be, even though she's grown up in an awful environment.

I nod at her slowly, "Alright, alright. I won't bring it up again."

She seems satisfied with my answer and goes back to looking indifferent while waiting for her nails to dry.

"I'm going for a walk." I announce awkwardly, and Theo and Daphne nod distractedly, each deep in their own thoughts. I get to my feet and walk towards the castle, needing to cool down from the surprising September heat.

I walk into the shadowy Entrance Hall and take a minute to marvel at the coolness in here. Noticing four hourglasses, which I think I read that they count the House Points, I make my way over to them, intrigued at how they work.

The four separate hourglasses are moving different coloured gems around in a lackadaisical fashion. I note that the Hufflepuff Hourglass contains the most crystals at the bottom, giving them an early lead. I feel a slight longing in my chest to stay, to postpone the mission as much as possible so I'm able to see the House Cup being awarded at the end of the year. But that's unrealistic of me.

I hear footsteps ascending the stairs from the Dungeons behind me and I look into the glass of the Slytherin counter to see the reflection of my target behind me. I turn slowly and watch him hurry very uncharacteristically across the flagstone floor and towards the Marble Staircase.

He glances up about halfway across the hall and locks eyes with me. I raise my eyebrows and give a small wave, hoping he'll show some sort of sign to acknowledge my existence. Since that first morning at breakfast, he hasn't spoken a word to me, and I'm starting to worry now that I'll never make a foundation to establish a little trust. That's my strategy I've decided on, you see. The closer you get to someone, the easier it is to kill them. If they ever give you the chance to speak to them, that is.

He frowns at me, not in a mean way but in a more puzzled way, as if he's trying to work something out. Merlin knows what that something might be.

He shakes his head and looks away from me, all the while still walking to the stairs. He reaches them and takes them two at a time until he's out of sight.

_Very suspicious._

Before I realise what I'm doing, I start tailing him.

I creep up the marble staircase on the balls of my feet and listen out for which direction he's headed in. I carry on in this fashion until we reach the seventh floor, always staying a few corridors behind him. I catch up to him once up the last flight of stairs and see him come to a stop in front of a blank wall.

_What?_

He closes his eyes and marches past this blank wall a few times, muttering something under his breath which I can't catch, and a rough wooden door appears out of nowhere. He grabs the handle and opens it forcefully, and I get a glimpse of what's inside this mysterious room.

From the tiny section I see for a brief second, it looks as though this room is packed full of shelves, with all sorts of objects, items and trinkets piled haphazardly all over the place. The door slams shut behind him, cutting off my view, and before I can sneak up to it and have another look, the plain looking door disappears, leaving just the stretch of wall again.

I wait for four hours for my target to emerge from the wall where he disappeared.

For the first twenty minutes, I attempted to get into the room where he had gone, failing miserably. I walked the corridor, analysed every detail of the walls, the floor, the statues and paintings, even a disturbing tapestry with trolls in tutus. I still didn't find a way in.

Which is how I find myself, after all that useless searching, sat behind a statue just around the corner from where the wall is, in a spot where I'll see him, but he won't be able see me.

If he ever comes out, that is.

So that's how, four hours later, I am still sitting propped against the wall, with cramp in my lower back, a dead leg, and my eyelids on the verge of closing, when I hear a low rumbling noise which echoes through the empty corridors of the seventh floor.

I struggle to stand up, my back twinging in pain and my leg not wanting to cooperate. I lean against the statue for support and poke my head around it to see if my target has returned.

Sure enough, he has. The door behind him fades quickly back into the wall, and I watch him stand in front of it with a furrowed brow. His skin is paler than when I saw him go in, and he has dark rings under his eyes. He looks absolutely drained.

_What on earth was he doing in there?_

He cocks his head to the side, as if listening to something, and I hold my breath. I don't want to be heard. After a moment, he shakes his head, and sets off down a corridor in the opposite direction.

I let out the breath I am holding and decide to inspect this wall again. I walk up to the stretch of corridor where the door appeared and stare at said wall, hoping that something will happen. It doesn't.

I then walk right up to it, my face inches from the cool stone, not entirely sure what to do. I tap my wand on the bricks hoping that maybe some magic will prompt the door to appear, with no such luck. I sigh angrily and turn back around. Why can't anything be simple? Why should I have to put myself through this effort? All just to find out some information about my target?

_Information I don't really need_, a small voice in my head whispers. I tell it to shut up.

In my frustration, I kick a suit of armour which clangs loudly as my foot connects with it and I start p-acing up and down the corridor, thinking about how much I want to get into that room he just exited. I have my head buried in my hands, so I don't notice the door appear again until I rub my eyes and look up. Even though my vision is blurry, it's definitely the same door as earlier.

I turn the iron handle gingerly and push against the heavy wood. It swings open slowly to reveal the same room I caught a glimpse of earlier and I thank my lucky stars at whatever let me find this.

Piles and piles of _junk _spill over shelving units as far as the eye can see. The room is deadly silent save for a loud ticking noise which sounds as though it's coming from a grandfather clock, although I can't see one in my immediate line of sight. This is the perfect place to hide things, and I see a stack of leather-bound books on a shelf near me. I wander over and, on closer inspection, realise that they're people's diaries.

_Does one of these belong to my target?_

Flicking through the names on the front pages the answer is no. He doesn't look like the type to keep a diary, anyway. So, what is he hiding in here then?

The clock chimes from wherever it is, and I check my watch. It's six o'clock, meaning dinner is about to start, but if I leave the seventh floor now I'll look suspiciously late. That, and the fact me and my target have been missing all day and would just happen to reappear at the same time, influences my decision to go back to the Slytherin dorm and pretend I wasn't feeling well.

I leave the strange room with the vanishing door and traipse down the seven flights of stairs in a slightly dejected manner. I don't know what I was expecting to learn about my target during this little escapade, but it certainly wasn't nothing at all. Serves me right I suppose; I shouldn't have been trying to get information anyway. My only job is to kill him.

I reach the Slytherin common room and give the password quietly. The dank brick wall breaks apart to let me in, and I'm halfway across the empty room to the girls' quarters when I hear a voice ask, "Where have you been?"

I spin on my heel and the last person I expect to see is slouching in one of the armchairs by the fireplace.

_My target._


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N: So I've been in a really good writing flow the last couple of days and thought I'd post this seeing as I've got more material. There's quite a bit of Draco action (yay) in this one and a bit more insight into Arachne's life. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to J. , only my character and plot. _

Draco Malfoy repeats the question, or at least I think he does. All I can hear is a rushing in my ears, and my feet are rooted firmly to the floor. _Has he been waiting for me?_

I blink slowly at him and my head clears a bit. "I haven't been feeling very well," I reply. The excuse sounds lame, so I add a sniffle.

"Is that so?" He gives an amused smile, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth.

I mentally scold myself. I've killed plenty of boys before, I need to stop letting this one get to me, even if he is very good looking. I can't compromise my mission – scratch that, my _career_ – just because I find him attractive.What kind of assassin would I be if I didn't kill anyone I fancy?

_I do not fancy him._ No way. I've only known the guy for a few days, let alone spoken to him much.

Annoyed, I say, "Yeah, actually. Sorry for needing some alone time because I feel under the weather." I stomp over to one of the leather couches next to him and plop myself down with a sigh.

"Sorry," He mutters quietly, but from the look on his face, he still doesn't believe me. _Does he know I was following him?_

"It's fine, you just ask a lot of questions," I reply with a raised eyebrow.

At this, I see something spark behind his stormy eyes, "Maybe I'm just inquisitive by nature."

"I haven't seen you _inquiring_ any of the others." I counter.

"I've had almost six years with them." He smirks. He knows he's right.

I'm in the middle of thinking about the many different ways I can wipe that smirk off his face when the entrance to the common room opens and students start flooding in. Daphne spots me and heads over with Pansy, Theo and Blaise, sending me a questioning look when she spots Malfoy.

"Why weren't you at dinner?" She asks once she's sat next to me.

"Not feeling too great, sorry." I'm better prepared this time, and the lie comes out smoothly.

"Well, you still should have eaten something. I would have smuggled you out some food had I known." She leans back into the couch and sighs.

"She's right, breakfast is served later on a Sunday, you'll have to wait until nine tomorrow morning." Blaise, who's sat himself in another armchair, adds.

"Whatever." I wave my hand nonchalantly. "Anything interesting happen then?"

Pansy launches into a lengthy description about how some Gryffindor was trying to flirt with one of Potter's friends, and how two Ravenclaws somehow got involved and it ended up in a huge fight. During this, I see Draco – no, my target - get up and leave out of the corner of my eye, mumbling something to Blaise before heading to the boys' dorm.

I try to push him out of my mind. I know I need to kill him soon, but the thought gives me a strange feeling in my chest, one that I don't recognise. He seems so troubled and guarded: why is he such a threat?

I'm brought back to the conversation at hand by Theo throwing a cushion at me, telling me to snap out of whatever daydream I'm in. I spend the rest of the evening laughing more than I've done in my entire life, and I can't help thinking that this is what it feels like to have friends.

Monday arrives quicker than I would have liked, and before I know it, I'm sat in double potions. Professor Slughorn collects our essays on the basics of Draught of Living Death, then announces that for the rest of the year we'll be assigned into pairs, who we'll complete all potion-making with. I sit there and pray I don't get paired with my target (even if that would be a good opportunity to poison him), and my prayers are miraculously answered as I get put with a Gryffindor girl named Katie Bell.

I move to sit by her and introduce myself. She's a pleasant girl who I quickly find out is into quidditch, so I talk to her about the league. I gaze around the room as I'm half listening to her babbling on about the Holyhead Harpies when I catch a familiar pair of grey eyes staring at me.

They look more quicksilver today, giving them a level of intensity I haven't seen before that makes me feel like the bottom of my stomach has disappeared. He raises his eyebrows, as if to ask, 'how's your partner?' I debate ignoring him but decide that would just be plain rude, so instead offer a small smile in return. Is he being _nice _to me? This is new; he always seems suspicious of me, with good reason, so why the sudden change of attitude?

I realise I've been staring back for far too long and break eye contact quickly. I try and stare at the blackboard for the remainder of the lesson, pretending to take detailed notes, but I still feel his eyes on me right up until we're dismissed. I pack my bag hastily, and with a quick "goodbye" to Katie, I all but run from the classroom.

I'm just emerging into the entrance hall when I hear a "Messer."

I turn to see my target bounding up the last few steps to join me. "Malfoy."

I realise I've ever actually said his name out loud before. The vowels are foreign on my tongue but strangely I like the way they sound.

_I really need to stop thinking like this._

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" He asks. He seems genuine, so I nod affirmative and let him guide me away from the crowd of students to the other side of the entrance hall.

"I just wanted to apologise." He states. He leans against the wall casually and crosses his arms.

I frown, "For what?"

"Well, I know I was a bit rude to you on Saturday, so I'm sorry. It had been a rough day." He runs a hand down his face, his expression genuine, and I'm surprised at his admittance.

I have a burning desire to ask him why he had such a rough day, but I bite my tongue and say, "I honestly wasn't thinking about it, don't worry," with a reassuring laugh.

"Well, I just wanted to extend the olive branch a little. I know we've had a bit of a weird start, but I don't see why we can't be friends. You get on with the rest of the group so well; I don't want to be the one you dread seeing, you know?" He shrugs and offers a small smile.

The idea that we'll never be able to be friends crosses my mind. _He's too attractive to just be friends with him. _I try to quell this thought.

"Of course. Fresh start?" I smile back and offer my hand to shake.

"Fresh start." He agrees and takes my outstretched hand. As soon as our skin meets, an electricity runs through me like nothing I've felt before and I regulate my breathing.

My target pulls back his hand. If he felt it too, then he's doing an amazing job of not showing it. "Let's get some food then, eh?" He says, that smile still on his face.

"Sure," is all I manage to get out, and I follow him into the Great Hall to where the others are waiting.

On Wednesday, I receive a letter from my parents with the morning post. I don't recognise the small tawny owl, however I should probably pretend to, so I feed her some toast and stroke her beak after I've untied the envelope from her leg.

"Bye, Coco." I whisper as she flies away, thinking of a name on the spot. I tuck the letter into my pocket. It'll all be encoded, I know that, but I don't want to take any risks.

"Why is your owl called 'Coco', he's not even the colour of cocoa?" Blaise looks up from his Daily Prophet. It's just me, him and Pansy at breakfast today. Apparently, Daphne had a minor accident at quidditch try-outs yesterday and Madame Pomfrey made her stay in overnight, so Theo and Malfoy are eating with her at the hospital wing.

"She." I correct him. That's always been a constant in my life: my parents always send me female owls.

"Well, it's obviously after Coco Chanel," Pansy says with an eye-roll and scoops some cereal into her mouth.

"Yeah," I agree, surprised she knows who that is.

"Well, aren't you going to read your letter then?" Blaise asks. He's asking a lot of questions this morning. Does _he _know something about me?

"I'd prefer to read it in private," I bring a self-deprecating smile to my face, "Don't want to start crying on you." I haven't cried genuinely in years.

"Aw, you miss your family, that's cute." Pansy says, leaning her head on her hand. "Once you've been here a while, the homesickness wears off."

"I can imagine." I reply, and this one is honest. I remember getting homesick on my very first mission, only to speak to my parents who told me to 'grow up and get the job done'. I've since shut off those feelings – I can't remember the last time I was home anyway.

I finish my breakfast and stand up, "I just need to get something from the dorm before lessons start."

"Sure, see you later," Blaise says, engrossed by his newspaper again.

"Yeah, see you in a bit," Pansy smiles. I smile back at her and leave.

I hurry to the girls' dorm, and once I'm safely inside and have checked it's empty, I open the letter.

_Dear Arachne,_

_We hope you're settling in well! We miss Hogwarts almost as much as we miss you (just joking). The castle has so many secrets, many of which even we never solved. _

_We hope your dorm is nice as well. If you don't fancy sharing a bathroom, you should try the prefects' bathroom on the third floor – the bath is amazing. _

_We're hosting a dinner party at the weekend: we have 8 guests coming around, so we were thinking of making our famous beef wellington. We know it's your favourite, but we'll make sure we send over some sweets to make up for it._

_Lots of Love_

_Mum and Dad x_

I memorise the information before burning it with my wand and catching the ashes in the communal bin for our dorm. I'm meant to contact my parents at eight tonight in the prefects' bathroom on the third floor. The "beef wellington" is the frequency I should contact them on, as I use a magically enhanced radio, and the "sweets" they're sending over means they're sending me more poison to replenish my stocks.

I check the time, realising I'm going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures, and rush out of the dorm. I have appearances to uphold.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?"

I levitate the copper wire a bit higher, and the mermaid in the stained-glass window shoots me yet another questioning look. The static clears a little, but not much.

I'm in the Prefects bathroom on the third floor, sitting next to one of the open windows trying to get a signal for my radio. I've still got a couple of minutes until it's eight exactly, but I know my parents are extremely punctual and sometimes it can take a while to make a connection.

I have all the taps on filling up the swimming pool sized bath, making sure any eavesdroppers or passer-bys won't hear me. I also have the lively guitar riffs of The Hobgoblins playing out of Theo's wireless just to be safe. I thought since he was a prefect, I'd hound him with questions about the prefects' bathroom. He wasn't giving anything away at first, but I annoyed him so much he relented, and even let me borrow his music player.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" I try again.

After a few seconds, a crackly voice rings out with our agreed security question, "Where were you trained in knife-throwing for the first time?"

I smile bitterly and say, "The South of France, when I was five." I shuffle where I'm seated and prepare for the onslaught that is my parents.

"How have you been, sweetie? Have you settled in alright? I was just saying -"

My father cuts my mother off, "Calm down, dear, or she might get compromised."

"Alright. But seriously, how are you finding it?" My mother says in a slightly quieter voice.

"Yeah, I've settled in well."

"Good. Made any friends?" My father asks, but I know it's one of his tests.

"No, just assets." The lie slips out flawlessly, because I know this is what he wants to hear.

"That's my girl."

"And how's the mission?" My mother interjects.

"Slower than expected, I must admit," I say reluctantly. I know this is not what they want to hear, but if I can just fend them off a bit longer it might buy me some more time.

"How slow exactly?" My father asks carefully.

"Why does it matter? I have six months on this one."

"Well..." my mother starts, "we've just received more information on your target."

I'm expecting her to give me more details, but she doesn't and there's complete silence. After a minute, I say, "Go on."

"What we're about to tell you is extremely classified, even you shouldn't know, but we think it's in your best interest." My father says in a low voice.

"Well, it's not like I can tell anyone." I roll my eyes, but my stomach is beginning to churn. If even _I'm_ not allowed to know then this can't be anything good.

"We're serious, Arachne!" My mother all but yells, and my father tells her to be quiet again.

"We have received intel that your target has been assigned to kill Albus Dumbledore." He says with resignation in his voice.

_Shit._

I'm speechless. Malfoy is meant to be killing Dumbledore? This is huge. It changes everything about my mission; I've been pussyfooting around for the last week when I should have killed him already. I was even starting to think he was charming.

_Even psychopaths can be charming when they want to be._

I think back to that day I saw him at the strange room on the seventh floor. This would explain the dark rings under his eyes, and the slight sag he permanently has in his shoulders. But what exactly is he hiding in that room? Is it a murder weapon of some sort?

"We found out from a source inside the Death Eaters." My father continues.

_Death Eaters. _Does Daphne know? Theo? Blaise? Pansy? I've been letting my guard down a little around them, but this has reminded me that I can't trust anyone.

"Is your source reliable?" I ask in an unsure voice.

"We think so." But that doesn't reassure me. The churning in my stomach has increased tenfold and I feel sick.

"Arachne, honey, we know you're good at what you do." My mother says quietly.

I mentally scoff at this. _Like I have a choice. _

"But we need this mission done fast. He could kill Dumbledore next week and then where will the Order be?"

Annoyed at the pressure they're putting on me, I snap, "If Voldemort has sent Malfoy to assassinate Dumbledore and I kill him, surely he'll just send another spy to do the job."

My father sighs deeply, "Even if that is the case, we all have our duty to fulfil in this war. By killing your target, you'll at least buy us some time."

"Fine." My parents are always so logical, yet a lot of the time it feels like I'm not even their own daughter, just a machine they send out to kill.

My mother tries to be sincere, "It'll all be over soon, and we were thinking you could maybe come home for Christmas."

"That sounds good." I reply. It does sound good. I haven't spent Christmas at home in two years, but I don't want to get my hopes up too much in case another mission comes up.

"We should probably go now, we've been on the line long enough as it is," My father says, "We'll send you over that poison by the end of the week."

"Ok, speak to you soon."

"Bye, honey!" Calls my mother.

"Yeah, bye." I reply, but the line has already returned to static and I'm left with a lingering feeling of disappointment. I've never really questioned my parents before, always going along with what they say, but since making friends, and going to school, and seeing how my peers live it's put my life into perspective somewhat.

But that doesn't mean I can abandon my mission. The stakes have been raised, and Draco Malfoy needs to die.


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry for the wait for this chapter, I'm in the middle of exam season right now and everything has been super stressful. _

_Also, there seems to be a problem with words/letters going missing in my writing. I've been through my saved documents thinking they were typos, but they're not. I have, however, uploaded this story to Wattpad and there doesn't seem to be a problem there. My username is NimbusStormx if you want to check that out. _

_Anyway, onto the story. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything by J.K Rowling. _

…

_Draco Malfoy needs to die._

This is the thought reverberating through me as I head back to the dungeons from the prefects' bathroom. I feel hollow, as if someone has ripped all my organs out of my chest. I've procrastinated for far too long. He needs to die before Dumbledore does.

_Dumbledore. _

I enter the common room and Theo shouts me over to what seems to be their usual spot, but I ignore him and carry on to the girls' dorm. Once there, I sit on my bed and shut the curtains of the four-poster.

I'm going to kill him tomorrow. I _have _to kill him tomorrow. The only question is how?

The obvious answer is the killing curse, but he's a much better wizard than I am and he'll see it coming from a mile off. I could stab him, however that's messy. Like really messy. And if anyone sees they'll know it's me that killed him which will completely blow my cover.

I think poison is my best option. Yes, I can slip it to him in the Great Hall and act surprised, then sneak away into the forbidden forest at the first chance I get, vanishing without a trace.

_And then what? Home for Christmas? More like onto the next target._

I sigh and lay back on the emerald covers. My life is a never-ending cycle of settling down, killing then moving on – I'd love to have longer than a week here, to try and be a normal teenager for once. But I know that the longer I spend here the harder I'm going to find it in me to kill him.

The door to the dorm opens, breaking me out of my reverie. "Spider Girl?"

I sit back up and pull my curtain to the side. Daphne walks over with Pansy just behind her and says, "We just wanted to check everything was ok."

They sit on either side of the bed, and guilt spreads through me. They genuinely care about me. I wish the situation didn't have to be like this.

"Um, yeah, just got a lot on my mind and didn't fancy being in the common room with loads of people." _Well, with one particular person_, I silently add.

"That's cool, we haven't had a girls' night in ages, have we, Daph?" Pansy says, looking over at her.

Daphne smiles back, and before I know it we're all set up on my bed with a variety of snacks and nail varnish. I know this probably isn't the best idea and that I should in no way trust them, but if this is my last night on this mission I'm going to make the most of it.

"So what have you had on your mind, if you don't mind me asking?" Inquires Daphne, raising an eyebrow while trying to open a chocolate frog.

I panic, not expecting her to bring up my poor excuse from a minute ago, and blurt, "I fancy Malfoy."

_Fuck. What have I just done? Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Daphne drops her chocolate frog and stares at me like I'm crazy, and Pansy starts choking on the sweet she just popped in her mouth.

It's all for my cover, of course. At least, that's what I'm trying to tell myself.

"Since when?" Pansy asks once she's stopped coughing. Both her and Daphne have strange expressions on their faces, as if they're happy for me but at the same time they're not.

I shrug. "I don't know, not very long. Why? Don't you think he likes me?" I look down and stare at my hands deliberately. I've started this, I've got to commit to the act now.

"Uh…" Daphne starts, "we don't really talk to him about things like that." She picks her chocolate frog back up and opens the wrapper fully. "He's hardly an open book."

"Yeah." Pansy shifts, and says, "Look, Spider Girl, I don't want things to be awkward between us but me and him dated for about four months at the start of last year."

I'm not surprised. In a mixed boarding school, it's bound to happen, especially being in such close proximity with the people in your house. "That's fine. I'm assuming you ended on good terms if you're still friends?" I hazard.

"Oh Merlin, of course." She laughs. "We're great friends, I think that was part of the problem, really, there wasn't much chemistry between us. But I'm not bothered if you get with him. We tried and realised we were better off as mates, no hard feelings." She pops another sweet in her mouth. "However, if you break his heart, then I will be bothered." She laughs again.

If she's worried about me breaking his heart, I can't imagine what she'll be like after I murder him.

"I respect that." I say, then change the subject; "What colour nail varnish should I choose?"

And just like that, the awkward atmosphere dissipates, and we gossip well into the night.

The next morning, I wake up early in order to prepare. Today is the day. The day I kill my target.

I'm washed and dressed by the time the other girls wake up, and when they all go into the bathroom to get ready, I quickly pack what little belongings I have into the trunk at the end of my bed. I slip my last vial of poison into the front right pocket of my uniform and wait until Daphne and Pansy are ready to go.

We head up to the Great Hall together, where the boys are already sat at the centre of the Slytherin table. I make sure to sit next to Malfoy and start preparing my breakfast as usual.

"Have you done the Defence essay, Daph?" Theo asks blearily. As they start to converse, I plan out how to get the poison into Malfoy's drink. He's making himself a cup of tea so I'll have to wait until he's finished, otherwise he'll notice.

"You alright, Spidey?" Pansy asks me from across the table, sending me a knowing look. She's probably thinking that I'm thinking about Malfoy. Well, I am thinking about Malfoy, but not in the way that she's thinking.

"Yeah," I butter my toast lethargically and force myself to yawn, "Still not awake yet, sorry."

She smiles knowingly in return before Malfoy asks her something and they get into conversation. This is my chance while he's distracted. I open the lid of the tiny vial of poison and tuck it into the palm of my hand. Leaning over Malfoy, I mutter, "Sorry," and grab a pot of marmalade, letting the liquid fall into his tea in the process. I bring my arm back over, slide the empty vial up my sleeve, and start piling marmalade onto my toast.

I feel strangely calm, as if I'm in a trance, and watch Malfoy intently out of the corner of my eye. He brings the steaming mug to his lips and takes a large gulp. The poison causes a slow internal bleeding and will take 2-3 hours before it starts to visibly affect him.

"So, Arachne," Blaise addresses me.

"That's me," I say wryly, biting into my toast.

He smirks a little before carrying on, "You coming to watch the quidditch game next week?" I think Daphne mentioned it last night, but I didn't really pay much attention figuring I'll be long gone by then.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world," I take another bite of my toast and ask, "Who are you playing again?"

"Hufflepuff," Theo chimes in, "So should be an easy win for us."

"Yeah, and I think we're going to sneak some firewhiskey into the stands," Pansy says with a conspiratorial tone.

I make myself look awkward, "I don't really drink."

"Suit yourself. The offer is there, though."

Daphne shakes her head at me and smiles, "There's nothing wrong with not drinking; Pansy is just a bad influence."

"I am not!" She screeches. We all tell her to be quiet, and she huffs and grumbles something under her breath.

Breakfast starts vanishing, and I see Malfoy downing the rest of his tea before getting up from the bench. A shiver runs through me and I start to feel nervous. _Have I really just killed him?_

No, I haven't. Not until his heart stops beating.

I can't concentrate in any of my morning classes and as the minutes crawl by the knot in my stomach becomes tighter. I'm apprehensive that I haven't heard any news about Malfoy, but also a small irrational part of me is hoping that somehow the poison hasn't worked – purely because I want to stay at Hogwarts for longer, of course.

Lunch rolls around and there's still no news. I don't think I can bring myself to eat anything, so I make up some excuse to Daphne before heading to the common room. A wave of anxiety washes over me and I almost fall down the steps on the way there. Word travels fast in this castle so I already know I've failed in my attempt to assassinate him, but this doesn't prepare me for the shock that runs through me when I see him sitting, alive and healthy, with Blaise on one of the leather couches inside.

_What the fuck happened?_

That poison was a deadly one, and I know it was brewed correctly because it came straight out of the Department of Mysteries. So why isn't he dead?

Another wave of anxiety courses through me. Malfoy looks up and says, "Hey", with Blaise following suit.

I manage to get out a strangled, "Hi," before rushing through the girls' dorm and into the bathroom. I bang open the door to one of the toilet stalls and just about manage to kneel in front of the bowl before throwing up my guts. Why didn't it work? He must have known about it if he's managed to stay alive, surely? And how am I going to explain this to my parents?

My shoulders shake as I empty the contents of my stomach and then continue to dry heave for what seems like eternity. I clutch the bowl and count my prime numbers in an attempt to calm down, which works somewhat. I need to get myself together before somebody finds me. I stagger to my feet and over to a sink, trying to control my breathing. I splash water on my face and look up into the mirror.

I don't recognise the girl staring back at me: there is a sickly sheen to her skin and her uniform is dishevelled. I try to straighten it and notice a vomit stain on the sleeve. _Great. _I brush my teeth hastily before heading back to the dorm and changing my jumper. I need to get back to class before it looks suspicious.

I just don't know how he's done it. Unless the poison is taking longer than usual for him – that can sometimes happen, but a niggling feeling in my gut tells me that's not the case here.

Someone must have known there was poison in the tea he drank. The question is who?

Over the next couple of days, I resolve to find what he's hiding in that room on the seventh floor, thinking it might shed some light onto the situation. So that's where I find myself during every spare moment, even during the middle of the night once. But after falling asleep on an ancient armchair and waking up to find a gargantuan spider on my leg, I don't visit the room after nightfall again.

I make another trip on Saturday afternoon. I've meticulously combed through the first eight rows of shelving, which doesn't sound like much, but they're packed so tightly with contents spilling onto the floor it's a miracle I've even managed to do that much.

I pace up and down the corridor in front of the wall and the door appears after the third time, as if by clockwork. I wonder if it's only the room with all the clutter in that you can access here, or whether there are other rooms too. Entering, I do a quick scan to see if anything has been moved. It hasn't, so I head deeper into the room, counting the shelves as I go.

I reach shelf number nine and kneel on the floor. Yesterday, I was in the middle of rifling through an ancient wooden chest filled with all kinds of crap, and I've just rolled up my sleeves and taken a couple of books out when I hear a voice behind me.

"Looking for something?" Draco drawls.

I jump at the sudden noise slicing through the silence. I didn't hear him creep up on me, which is worrying. I'll have to watch my back better.

"Not particularly," I reply vaguely and stand up. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing much," He trails his eyes down my body. I look down and notice I have dirt all over my shins from the floor and try to wipe it off, with no such luck. "Just having a browse and found you here." He cocks his head to the side in a curious manner.

"Well, aren't you lucky." I raise an eyebrow and move to walk past him and out of the narrow aisle, but he reaches out and leans on a shelf, blocking my path and standing dangerously close.

"Where are you going?" He smirks. My gaze drops to his mouth and before I can stop myself I'm thinking about all the things he could do with those perfect lips of his.

"I…"

"We're friends, aren't we? And friends spend time together, don't they?" We're stood so close I can smell him; earthy and musky with a touch of… apple?

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, "We can't just be friends and you fucking know it."

_Why did I say that?_

A shocked expression graces his features briefly before his cool demeanour slips back into place, "What do you mean by that?"

I shut my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, "Ignore what I just said."

"But-"

"_Ignore _what I just said." The thought crosses my mind that I should just knock him out and kill him now, more for my embarrassment than the mission.

"Alright."

I open my eyes, "Alright?"

"Yeah, don't make me say it again." He's looking over my shoulder with an unreadable face.

"I should probably go." I move, again, as if to leave and when he doesn't step out of the way I dart under his arm.

He turns around suddenly, as if broken out of whatever trance he was in. "Arachne?"

I sigh. "Yeah?"

"Be careful."

I pause momentarily before walking away. _Be careful? What does that mean?_


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N: So I know it's been almost 2 months since I last updated but exam season is over now yay. Hope you enjoy this one and let me know what you think!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to J.K Rowling, only my original character and some plot._

_x_

Over the next week, I barely see Draco: he doesn't sit with us in the common room, he's scarcely at meals and in class he keeps to himself, only speaking when professors call upon him. This does nothing to ease my anxiety. If anything, it makes it worse, and I can't stop his warning from bouncing around my head.

_Be careful._

Is he genuine? Or is it a threat? I battle between these thoughts, wishing I had someone to share them with other than my parents – I doubt they'd approve of me worrying over something my target has said. And I still haven't killed him. It's been a week and a half since my ordeal with that poison and I have no idea how he's managed to stay alive.

I spend Friday evening in the library by myself, half-heartedly doing a Care of Magical Creatures essay. The quidditch game is tomorrow and although I said I wouldn't drink, a firewhiskey might be just what is needed to settle my stomach and clear my head. I received another letter, along with more poison as promised, from my parents just this morning asking if I've completed my mission, and that it's too dangerous to talk on the radio again so I should reply by owl. I haven't written my response yet. I don't really want to.

My mind goes back to the game tomorrow. Pansy, Theo and I will be watching from the Slytherin stand while Daphne, Blaise and Draco play.

_Draco._

The idea hits me like a tonne of bricks. I could assassinate him during the game somehow: he won't readily have his wand to hand on his broom, could I send the killing curse from afar? Probably not. Well, not without somebody seeing anyhow.

But what if I could curse his broom?

I get up from my table at the very back of the library and hurry to the charms section. If I can find at least one curse obscure enough that would take some time to undo I could have a chance.

I search for what feels like hours, scribbling down possibilities on a spare scrap of parchment until it's full. I don't think I'm skilled enough to enchant his broom during the game, but if I could do it beforehand it might work.

_But what if I don't want to kill him? _A small voice whispers from the back of my mind.

No, I have to - for the sake of the wizarding world it has to be done.

_He doesn't look like a killer, though. _Well, neither do I. But I can't shake the thought that my parents could be feeding me lies; I certainly wouldn't know any better. They have been my entire world for as long as I can remember, and consequently they could tell me anything and I'd believe it.

I wander back to my belongings and practically throw them into my backpack. Lies or not, they're all I have, which is why I will kill him tomorrow. If not for my parents' sake but the sake of my own sanity.

I open my eyes to Pansy shaking me awake the next morning.

"It's quidditch day, Spider Girl, wake up!" She cheers. I groggily lean up on my elbows and she bounds away to get ready.

I notice Daphne isn't in her bed. "Where's Daphne?"

"Oh, she's gone to have an early breakfast with the rest of the team. They like to have plenty of time before the game to strategize." She shrugs and starts brushing foundation onto her pale face.

"I see." I get up from the bed, stretching my arms above my head and yawning. "I think I left something in the common room last night." I remark to Pansy before grabbing my wand and tucking it into the waistband of my grey sweatpants.

"Mhm." Is all she says, focussed on perfecting her makeup.

I pad out of our dorm and through the empty common room to the sixth-year boys' dorm. I pray there's nobody in there before casting a passable disillusionment charm on myself and pressing my ear against the cool mahogany door. Once I'm satisfied there isn't much movement inside, I turn the handle slowly and slip in.

The boys' bedroom is identical to ours, with the beds forming a semicircle around the walls. A couple of the four-posters have their curtains drawn, indicating that the occupants are still asleep. I tiptoe around them, scanning the trunks at the bottom of each bed for the name 'Malfoy'. Once I find it, I _alohamora _it non-verbally and start rummaging silently for his broom.

All of his clothes are folded impeccably, and I try not to mess them up. His broom is tucked down the far side of the trunk, and when I yank it towards the top, I can't help but notice the pristine condition it's in. He obviously must care about it, which I find odd as he has so much money he could probably afford to buy a new one every other week.

I cast a _muffliato _charm on myself then recall the list of curses I made last night. I manage to enchant his broom with about five of them before somebody stirs in their bed. Deciding not to push my luck, I place the broom back where I found it and re-lock his trunk.

I successfully make my way out of the dorm and make myself visible again. I daren't get my hopes up too much as the last time I did, he didn't die. You won't find me celebrating until I see his lifeless corpse.

That thought sends a shudder through me, making me feel nauseous. Death has never made me feel sick before; why is this any different?

I re-enter the girls' dorm lost in my thoughts, and Pansy asks, "Did you find it?"

"No." I reply bluntly, searching through my own trunk for something to wear. I get dressed into a patriotic emerald sweatshirt and some jeans, and even let Pansy put a little makeup on me before we go to get some breakfast, all the while hoping that he will actually die this time.

Kind of.

Pansy, Theo and I arrive at the quidditch pitch early so we can get good seats. We pick a spot in the second row from the front, and Theo produces some paper cups from thin air so we can pour the firewhiskey out of the bottle that Pansy bought.

"I hope this game doesn't drag," Pansy remarks while taking a sip of whiskey. There's an autumn chill in the air and everyone is surprisingly wrapped up for a Saturday in early October.

"It won't," Theo grins cheekily, "Hufflepuff have as good as lost already."

"I hope so." I add, taking a sip of my own whiskey. The liquid sears my throat so much that I feel like the skin is peeling off. I can't help but cough, and Pansy and Theo share a smirk.

The team walks onto the pitch and we stand up with the rest of the Slytherins and cheer. All of the players lap up the attention apart from Draco, who merely runs his silver eyes over the crowd. They halt for a fraction of a second when they pass over where we're sat, before carrying on to the rest of the stand. I feel like I did when we made eye-contact at King's Cross back at the beginning of term: as if a bolt of lighting has struck my entire body, setting my nerves on fire. I take another sip of firewhiskey to try and calm myself down.

The players mount their brooms, and it's not long until we're sat back down and the game has started. Theo and Pansy make the occasional remark, but I only vaguely know the rules so I just nod along. I'm too preoccupied with Draco to make conversation anyway.

His gloved hands grip the front of his broom as he flies in slow circles around the pitch, keeping an eye out for the Golden Snitch. He's rolled the sleeves of his quidditch uniform up to his elbows – he must have cast a glamour spell over his left arm as there's no sign of a Dark Mark - and I marvel at how toned his forearms are. _Imagine what the rest of his body looks like. _I attempt to stop my thoughts from going any further and move my focus to his broomstick.

It doesn't seem to be causing him any problems so far; he has complete control of it, haven't my curses worked? But just as I'm thinking this, his broom jerks to the side. The crowd gasps collectively and my heart lodges itself in my throat. His broom jerks again, harder this time and he almost loses his balance.

"What the fuck!" Pansy shouts and jumps to her feet, pulling her wand out of her pocket.

Theo calmly lays a hand on her arm, his face looks like he's seen a ghost, "I wouldn't. You'll probably make it worse."

She shakes him off but tucks her wand away. "Whoever is doing this is _sick. _He could die up there!"

I have the strange urge to laugh at this. That's _exactly _the point. Draco's broom continues to pull him randomly in different directions yet is becoming more and more gentle with each movement.

"Someone's reversing the curse." I whisper, more for myself than anyone else, but Pansy hears me.

"Too bloody right."

The movements slow to a stop, and the crowd elicits a mixture of cheers and boos. Butterflies erupt in the pit of my stomach. No, scratch that, _bats. _Draco goes back to circling the pitch, completely unaffected by what's just unfolded.

_How the hell did I fail again?_

Somebody knows. That's the only conclusion I can draw from this. Somebody knows I'm trying to kill Draco and is blocking my every attempt.

_Fuck._

I don't concentrate on the remainder of the game, choosing instead to drink firewhiskey and mentally draft the letter to my parents telling them I fucked up not once, but twice. Pansy pours me three more measures before saying I should stop, but the more I drink the more my anxiety disappears.

Pansy leans towards me, whispering so only I can hear, "Have you noticed that Theo can't stop looking towards the Gryffindor stand?"

I observe him, and just like clockwork he leans over the front row and looks at the adjacent stand to us. "What is he looking at?"

Pansy shrugs but has a knowing smile on her face. I decide not to push it for now.

Draco catches the snitch after an hour, but it's such a landslide victory we would have won if the Hufflepuff seeker caught it. Daphne, who plays chaser, scored 120 points alone, and Blaise, who plays keeper, blocked every single shot at the goal.

Pansy, Theo and I make our way across the grounds back to the castle, our voices hoarse from yelling so loud. We pass by the lake and the other two finish off the bottle of whiskey.

"Let's jump in!" Theo exclaims and doesn't wait for an answer before running towards the water and plunging in fully clothed.

"Don't be a wimp, Spider Girl." Pansy taunts then takes off after him.

With a sigh, I kick off my shoes and pull my sweatshirt over my head, revealing my white t-shirt, before following suit. As soon as I hit the water I regret it. "It's freezing!"

"Doesn't it make you feel alive!" Theo splashes me in the face. I splash him back, and soon the three of us are in the midst of a water fight. My sides ache from laughing so much. I don't remember the last time I felt this happy.

Three figures in green quidditch gear amble toward us along the bank, and Pansy screeches, "Well, if it isn't the men of the hour!"

"Men and woman," Daphne retorts before sitting on a rock and dangling her feet over. Draco lowers himself next to her, still managing to look graceful, and Blaise hovers next to them debating whether or not to get in with us.

I swim to where they're sat. "You know, you should be careful, Daphne, sitting there precariously. A monster might pull you into the lake."

She makes a face at me, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me." Is all I say before pulling myself up onto the rock in one fluid motion and shoving her into the water. Pansy and Theo howl with laughter. I bow theatrically before jumping back in.

Daphne resurfaces, sputtering and cursing, "You're gonna pay for that big time, Spider Girl."

"If you say so, Grass." I send her a shit-eating grin.

Blaise takes his shoes off and wades in up to his knees, "How much whiskey did you give her, Pansy?"

"I can't remember," is all she says before moving to float on her back.

Theo chuckles then asks, "You not getting in, Draco?"

"No, I should really be heading off." He stands up.

The others just nod like they're used to it, but in my tipsy state I'm not so ready to let it slide, "Where could you possibly be going that's more important right now?"

He looks at me blankly before walking off without saying a word.

I turn to the others, "Did I say something wrong?"

Blaise wades deeper and replies, "No, he's just going through a lot at the minute and the best thing we can do is give him some space."

I nod. A silence falls over us for what seems like forever, before Pansy tries to lighten the mood, "The afterparty is going to be great, anyway."

"Yeah," Theo agrees, "I wonder if Millicent will finally get with Crabbe."

They fall back into conversation, but I can't get rid of the uneasy feeling that's settled within me. Does Blaise know Draco is meant to be killing Dumbledore? Is that what he meant when he said he's going through a lot? I'd bet my last chocolate frog that Draco is heading to the room on the seventh floor as we speak. I should probably follow him up there but I can't bring myself to. Not right now.

We eventually return to the dungeons to dry off and get changed for the party. My heart isn't in it and I think Pansy can tell, as she doesn't force anymore alcohol on me. The common room is full to the brim, and I stay long enough to see the team, minus Draco, do their victory rounds before I make an excuse and go back to the dorm.

I have a lot to think about.


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N: Another chapter already! This is more of a filler-type one, but it's all to thicken the plot a little so bear with me haha. _

_Please let me know what you think as well! I love feedback so please tell me what you like, dislike, want to see more of etc as I'm writing this story a couple of chapters ahead. _

_Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe most definitely belongs to J.K Rowling and not me. _

The next couple of weeks pass by uneventfully. My parents send me two more letters, which I ignore, and I only really see Draco in classes. Since my two recent failed assassination attempts, I've needed time to regroup but I haven't come up with another plan yet.

There's an upcoming Hogsmeade trip, and I half toy with the idea that I could kill him there. Daphne and Pansy were planning a girl's shopping trip with the three of us, as we are apparently 'in serious need of some cute outfits' for the Slytherin Christmas party, the 'social event of the year', but my parents didn't sign off the forms so I can't go.

At breakfast on said Hogsmeade day, I hand them over a small pouch of money. "I'm trusting you guys to pick me something nice."

Pansy rolls her eyes, "But nice is synonymous with _boring, _and no friend of ours is boring."

Theo agrees, but Daphne stands up for me, "I'll make sure it's nothing too revealing, don't worry."

"Cheers," I reply.

Draco enters the hall and sits on the bench next to me. He hasn't eaten any meals with us in days and his face looks almost skeletal, with purple rings under his eyes and his cheekbones more prominent than normal. He doesn't say anything to us, just loads up his plate with toast and makes himself what looks to be a very strong coffee. A feeling resembling worry bubbles up inside me and I try to quench it.

"You coming to Hogsmeade with us, mate?" Blaise asks him while lowering his Daily Prophet.

"Think I'll give it a miss this time, sorry." He doesn't make eye contact with any of us.

Blaise merely shrugs and gets back to reading his newspaper. Is Draco going back to the room with all the clutter? I haven't visited since he found me in there, lest he find me again and get suspicious. If it's just me and him staying in the castle today, though, that could give me an excellent opportunity to tail him.

We finish breakfast and head to the Entrance Hall. Pansy, Daphne, Theo and Blaise say goodbye before heading out, leaving Draco and I by ourselves.

"You not going with them?" He questions, his thundercloud eyes settling on mine.

"My parents forgot to sign the form." I shift uncomfortably. "I think I'll just stay in the dorm and read."

"Sounds good." His eyes drop to my lips momentarily, sending a shiver through me. "I'll see you later, Arachne." The way he says my name makes me shiver again. He turns away and starts walking up the marble staircase.

"Bye, Draco." I say imperceptibly and turn the opposite way. Once satisfied I'm out of his line of sight, I do a full one-eighty and follow him, much like that first time weeks ago. I expect him to head up to the seventh floor again, but he stops on the third and winds his way to the eastern side of the castle.

He halts in a random corridor and pulls his wand out. He steps up to a weird statue of some sort of hunchback witch and taps his wand on the hump. The stone grinds apart to reveal a small dark space and he ducks inside, the stone closing-up again behind him.

What's in there? Is it some sort of passageway? Or another secret room? I consider tapping my wand on the statue myself and following suit, but for all I know it could be a trap, so I decide to go back to the seventh-floor room. I might as well take another look while there's no risk of him being there to surprise me again.

I make my way up there and head inside, vowing to try and find some information about this appearing room. I wander through the shelves, and my eye is caught by a cabinet that looks as though it's been pulled out from against the wall and not been put back. I double back to take a closer look.

It's not a typical rectangular shape cabinet: it's more like a giant prism, with one ridge jutting out to where I stand with a handle each side. The dark wood stretches upwards towards the ceiling. It must top seven feet tall, easily. There are intricate carvings covering every available inch and I run my hands along them in awe.

The handles are stiff when I try to open it, and it takes me a couple of tries before the doors reluctantly part. There's nothing inside save for a single shelf about a quarter of the way up from the ground.

_How strange. _

I shut the doors and am about to leave when I see a bowl full of green apples on a shelf next to the cabinet. I pick up one of them and squeeze. It's still firm, indicating they've been left here recently.

_Draco?_

I recall the encounter we had in here. He smelt like apples then. Is this why? Is the cabinet what he's been coming here for? And why would he need apples? Nothing adds up. The cabinet looks ordinary, but why would anyone leave it here if it was? I doubt the house elves fancied a change of furniture and threw it out.

I daren't risk staying here longer in case he arrives, so I place the apple back in with the others and make my way back to the dorm.

I'm sat in the Common Room when the others return from Hogsmeade.

"Oh my _Merlin, _you'll never believe what happened!" Pansy practically shouts as soon as they enter the room. Her and Daphne have their arms full of shopping bags and Blaise and Theo trail behind them. They dump the bags on the floor where I'm sat before plopping themselves onto the couches.

"What?" I ask half-heartedly. It's probably some petty gossip that I don't need to know.

"Katie Bell-" Pansy starts loudly but Daphne cuts her off.

"Keep your voice down, Pansy." She glances around the room furtively. "I'll tell her."

"What about Katie Bell?" I'm intrigued now.

"Well, we don't know _exactly, _but apparently someone cursed her." Daphne looks at me with wide eyes.

"Cursed?" Why would anyone want to curse Katie Bell? She's a nice girl and I can't imagine her to cause trouble with anyone. Unless it's a rival quidditch team, but it seems a bit extreme to curse an enemy player.

"Yeah, with a necklace of all things!" Pansy tries to whisper.

"Shh." Daphne says in a low voice. "All we know is Potter was there and he's being questioned as we speak."

Blaise leans forward and props his elbows on his knees, "He says he has nothing to do with it, but don't you find it funny that whenever something bad happens Wonder Boy is involved."

"Potter did _not _do it and that's a fact." Theo scoffs, crossing one leg over the other.

"Yeah, too much sun shines out of his arse for that." Pansy manages to say in a quieter tone while rolling her eyes.

"Well, somebody must suspect him if he's being questioned," I reason, "Who else would do it? And how did Katie even get that necklace?"

"Apparently she was seen acting strangely in the Three Broomsticks." Blaise answers.

Theo shrugs, "Yeah but one too many butterbeers can do that to you."

"Why are you defending Potter so much, Theo?" Daphne asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not. I just don't see how it could be him."

Pansy and Daphne share a look and we fall into silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

I sigh and glance at the many shopping bags, "What did you buy me then?"

"Well, we have _options._" Pansy says excitedly, her knee bouncing.

"Did you spend all that money I gave you?" Daphne and Pansy don't answer but have guilty expressions on their faces, "Bloody hell, I'm not made of galleons!"

"Don't you want to see what we got you, though?" Daphne says and grabs a few bags before standing up.

Pansy follows suit and they start walking to the girls dorm. "Suppose I should follow them." I say with an exaggerated eye roll.

The boys laugh and Blaise says, "Good luck."

I traipse to the dorm and as soon as I open the door Pansy grabs my arm and drags me to where they've started laying out the clothes on my bed, "Come on, Spider Girl, this is going to be fun."

It turns out that Katie Bell was not cursed by Potter, as originally thought, but that he was a mere bystander. The professors can't work out who it was or how she got the necklace, but rumours have started going around that she said something about Dumbledore, so I know who my money is on.

Monday rolls around and therefore double potions does too. Since my partner is in the Hospital Wing, I expect to be working by myself which I don't mind too much, so I amble into class and into my usual seat.

The dingy room fills up around me, chairs scraping against the cold dungeon floor and students greet their partners. Slughorn enters and takes up position in front of the blackboard and tries to tame the class over the din. They eventually settle down and he picks up his chalk.

"Good morning, everyone, today-"

The door to the dungeon bangs open and in walks Draco, looking slightly dishevelled and a bit manic.

"Sorry, professor." Was all he offered before shutting the door and making his way forward through the desks.

I turn back to the front, expecting Slughorn to continue with what he was saying, but no such luck.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Malfoy? I believe that is not where you sit."

I turn again to see Draco heading not towards his normal table, but mine. _Great, as if I'm not confused enough about him as it is. _Whispers erupt around the room and I level my gaze at him, making eye-contact. The corner of his mouth lifts into a half-smirk and our conversation from the room of requirement loops through my head: _"We're friends, aren't we?"_

He pulls the chair next to me out from under the desk and says, "I'm sorry, professor, I just thought she could use some company after the traumatic events of the weekend." At least he has the gall to look a little bit sympathetic.

This seems to throw Slughorn off, who replies, "Oh, well in that case I will allow it, but only until Miss Bell returns. Mr. Goldstein, you may join another pair if you do not wish to work by yourself." He waves a hand at Draco's former partner, who immediately grabs his belongings and shuffles to a nearby table, then resumes his teaching.

"What exactly are you trying to achieve?" I whisper in a low voice, my eyes fixed on Slughorn.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Messer." He replies in an equally toneless manner.

We don't speak for the remainder of the first hour, lost in our own thoughts. Was it really him who gave Katie Bell the cursed necklace? If it was in fact him, did he mean to curse her or are the rumours about Dumbledore true? And what is he playing at by sitting next to me? Because it definitely isn't due to his concern about my mental wellbeing.

And I still need to figure out who's blocking my every attempt at killing him. All of these thoughts make my head hurt and a wave of mental exhaustion washes over me.

Slughorn's voice breaks me out of my reverie, "Right, that's it for the theory today, let's have a ten-minute break before moving on to the practical element."

I glance at the textbook we've been working from and make a mental list of the ingredients before muttering, "I'll grab everything we need before it gets too busy," and without looking at Draco for his response I make my way over to the store cupboard.

After gathering a few ingredients, I head back and set them down. Draco has set a cauldron on the stand and is writing something in the margin of his textbook which I can't discern, however I do notice his handwriting seems to be very neat and deliberate, which doesn't surprise me.

Slughorn informs us that our break is up, so I start preparing the crickets while Draco lights the cauldron with his wand.

"So how are you finding lessons? Are they much different to your old school?" Draco asks while grabbing a piece of wormwood. Is he making small talk?

"They're not that different, in all honesty." I shrug. And it's true: most of it is not that different to my home-schooling.

I'm just delicately pulling off the legs when Draco nonchalantly comments, "Well, I couldn't help but notice you've got a good hand at potions. Maybe we should study together sometime."

At this, I snap my head up and look at him for the first time since he barged into the dungeon. My heart is pounding in my chest. Does he mean like study one-on-one? I'm barely used to him in a group setting, I don't think my anxiety can take being alone with him for an extended period of time.

_Yet this could be an excellent opportunity to kill him. _

Yeah and then what? Escape out of the library window?

"Um… what did you have in mind?" I stammer slightly but manage to keep the tone of my voice neutral.

Draco looks up from where he's shredding the wormwood and replies, "Well, we have mid-terms coming up, it might be useful to go through some notes together or something."

_Ah, mid-terms. _They haven't even crossed my mind and I realise this might benefit my academic career as well as my actual one. I glance to my left and see the bushy hair and sweaty brow of Hermione Granger, animatedly adding ingredients to her potion. She probably started studying for these mid-terms as soon as she boarded the Hogwarts Express and yet she still seems to struggle in this class. And if she's struggling, I've got no hope.

Draco follows my line of sight and lets out a small snort, "Don't worry about her, she makes everything seem ten times harder than they actually are."

I let out a soft laugh and mentally shake myself before returning to de-legging the crickets, "I bloody hope so."

"So, what do you say?"

He is not dropping this studying thing. I sigh, intending on giving him a definitive 'no', but what comes out of my mouth is the complete opposite; "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"Yeah?" He looks back up at me with an intensity in his quicksilver gaze which makes my stomach flip.

I nod, wanting to look away but finding I can't. We stay like that for a minute, holding each other's gaze until I can almost hear electricity crackling through the air between us, before a loud banging erupts from Seamus Finnigan's cauldron on the next table over, causing us both to look at the carnage he's caused this time.

Slughorn bustles over and Draco and I return to our respective tasks. We fall into silence again, only speaking occasionally about the potion, and I'm surprised to find that we work well together. At the end of the lesson, Slughorn peers into our cauldron then sends us an approving look before grading us with an O, and we pack up our stuff and exit.

I'm about to walk to lunch when I notice Draco isn't following me. I turn and he says, "How about Thursday night then?"

I look up at him, his face about a head taller than me, "Yeah, Thursday could work. Should we say seven?"

"Seven's good." He nods before starting towards the Slytherin common room, "See you, Arachne."

"See you." I trudge away up the many steps out of the dungeons, all the while kicking myself for agreeing to study with him. Surely nothing good can come out of this, but a small part of me says I've done the right thing.

All I can do now is pray I keep my cool.


	9. Chapter 8

_A/N: So university has been cancelled due to coronavirus and I'm now working from home, so I will try my best to find more time to write. Hope everyone is staying safe during this trying time!_

_You'll be glad to know there's a bit of Arachne and Draco action in this one (yay!). I have a clear idea of where this story is going but I don't know if it always translates to the page, so please please please give me feedback, good or bad!_

_Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling and do not own the Harry Potter franchise. _

_x_

On Wednesday I receive a howler from my parents.

The now-familiar owl drops a small envelope in front of me and I know something is wrong when she immediately takes off again without requesting any food. I open the envelope gingerly to reveal a second red envelope tucked inside and I bolt out of the hall and down a nearby corridor before it explodes.

"_Just WHO do you THINK you are, Arachne Dahlia Messer? You're at one of the most important stages of your life and you're ignoring our letters?!"_

I slide down the nearest stone wall until I'm seated on the cold hard floor and bury my head in my hands.

"_For all we know you could be dead! And yet you have the insolence…"_

The rest of the words are drowned out as my shoulders start to shake. I understand why they're angry: rule number one has always been that communication is key, but I know what they're reaction will be when they find out about the two failed attempts and it won't be pretty.

That, coupled with the fact that it's taken being around people my own age, being around _friends _of sorts, to realise that I've never had a choice in any aspect of my life thus far, causes fury to burn red hot through me and before I know it I'm up and tearing the howler to shreds before it can even finish what it's saying.

I storm back to the Great Hall to retrieve my backpack where I left it in my panic, ignoring the questions from Pansy and Daphne, and head straight up to the prefect's bathroom not caring if I miss my lesson. Locking the door firmly behind me and casting a _muffliato_, I don't even bother turning on any of the taps before I drop down angrily in front of the window and pull out my radio equipment.

The wire is barely hoisted into position when the security question can be heard through the static. I answer and soon my parents' voices come on the line.

"Thank God you've come to your senses!" My mum's voice screeches and I try to hold back my tears.

"We've been worried sick about you." My father adds calmly, but I can hear the anger burning in his voice.

"I'm sorry, it's just been hectic." Is all I can offer up to them in a shaky voice.

"Hectic? Too hectic to even bother sending us a letter saying you're alive!"

"I'm sorry."

I can hear my mother take a few deep breaths before growling, "What's the status of the mission?"

Waiting a beat, I'm trying to come up with the least damaging way to phrase my response when she repeats, "_I said-"_

"I'm aware of what you said!" I snap. I've never spoken to my parents in this manner before and it sends a small thrill through me.

There's silence on the other end of the line so I continue in a marginally quieter tone, "I've tried to kill this boy _twice _and he just won't die. He's like a cockroach that you keep standing on that just keeps getting back up."

"Go on." My father demands.

"I poured an entire vial of poison in his bloody tea which apparently did nothing, then I cursed his broom but someone reversed it! Somebody knows what I'm trying to do, and I don't know how long I'll be safe here for."

"Well, you know how important this mission is, darling-"

"_Don't 'darling' me!"_ My voice rises and I try and reign in my temper, but all of my conflicting thoughts and feelings rise to the surface at once. "Don't sit there and tell me what to do! I'm the one on the ground here, I'm the one with my neck on the line while you two just sit back and make your orders! I'm sick of it, I'm sick of everything."

"Now you listen, young lady, that's no way to talk to your parents!" My mother yells, but I'm past the point of caring.

"No, how about you listen? Just leave me to handle this! What's the point in all my training if you can't trust me to do my job?"

And before my parents can respond, I hang up.

After the ordeal with my parents, a strange sense of calm settles within me and I drift through the next day in a haze. Thursday evening rolls around quicker than I would have liked, so that's how I find myself mentally preparing for being alone with Draco while traipsing up the stairs to the library. There's a small knot of anxiety mixed with something else in my stomach that I can't put my finger on.

I arrive early and push open the heavy wooden door to the library, making my way to a table between the shelves in the back. I unpack my belongings and am just reading over some notes from last week when I see a blond head moving this way through the gaps between the tomes. Draco rounds a corner and smiles at me when he comes into view, sending my heart to my feet, and I return the gesture.

However, my smile falters slightly when I see Blaise following a couple of paces behind him. Disappointment blossoms in my chest and I try to tell myself it's because I won't be able to get information out of Draco, like I'd planned on the way up.

The boys drop their bags down onto the table and Draco says, "I mentioned to Blaise earlier that we were meeting to study and he said he wouldn't mind tagging along since he's got an essay due in." His expression is nonchalant but there's a slight note in his voice that suggests he isn't any happier about this than I am.

In response, Blaise smiles at me apologetically but his eyes aren't completely sincere, "The logic is that if you guys are working then that'll motivate me to work."

I shrug, "Sure, whatever." _Whatever? Since when did I say that? _

Draco pulls out a couple of books, a quill, and some parchment out of his bag and drags a chair over so he's sitting a hair's breadth away from me and I can feel the warmth radiating off his arm. _Can he get any closer? _

I glance at Blaise to see his eyes narrowed at where Draco is sitting. This is going to be uncomfortable.

"Have you had a chance to look at anything yet?" Draco asks, deftly thumbing his way through one of the textbooks to the section on _felix felicis. _

"Kind of." I did attempt to look through some of the homework last night, but I couldn't concentrate much, still mulling over the argument with my parents.

"Should we break it down by ingredient rather than potion? I think Slughorn might focus more on that."

"Sure," I nod.

We work in a similar manner to the lesson on Monday, keeping the topic of conversation strictly to potions, and I can't help but notice, again, how efficiently we work together. He's quick at understanding concepts despite the fact he looks like he hasn't slept since the start of term, and I have the inexplicable desire to smile whenever his eyes light up at some piece of knowledge. This, coupled with the fact that his arm keeps brushing against mine, has my body on high alert; the haze I have been in since yesterday completely gone with everything brought into sharp focus.

We are debating the properties of ashwinder eggs when a throat clears itself, and I look up to see Blaise now fully frowning at us.

_Just when I forgot he was here._

"Something the matter, Blaise?" Draco asks, a subtle tone of irritation in his voice.

"Not particularly." Blaise schools his face into neutrality, "Have you heard about the Slug Club Christmas party?"

Oh Merlin, here we go. Daphne has talked my ear off complaining about the Slug Club party all week, since she received an invitation on Monday, and the last thing I want right now is to talk about it again: it's on the same night as the Slytherin Christmas party, which I'm sure is a complete coincidence, but from what I've heard denying an invitation from Slughorn is career suicide.

"I'm not a member of the Slug Club, so no," answers Draco with a small shrug of his shoulders.

Blaise grimaces, "Well, I received an invitation the other day. Normally, I'd invite Daphne to accompany me however she's already a member of the Club."

"Is this your way of asking me out, Zabini?" Draco asks with a wicked smile.

Snorting, Blaise says, "Not you," and his gaze shifts to me.

"No way." I shake my head with a small laugh.

"Don't worry, Messer, I don't fancy you, but I don't know who else to ask."

"What about Pansy?"

Draco lets out a bark of laughter, earning us a stern warning from Madame Pince, then says, "Pansy might be pureblood, but her manners are shocking. She would no doubt get kicked out."

"Hence why I asked you." Blaise sends me a pleading look.

I sigh, "I'm sorry, Blaise, but the last thing I want to do is subject myself to that party."

He nods understandingly, "I knew it was a longshot you'd say yes anyway. Maybe I'll just attend as a bachelor," then sighs and grabs his satchel, "Think I'm going to head back to the Common Room."

_Finally. _

He packs away his belongings and bids us a quiet farewell before walking away brusquely, and I become painfully aware that Draco and I are now alone.

"So…" Draco drawls and looks at me, his stormy eyes burning.

"So…" I repeat back in the same manner, "Then there were two."

"Indeed," his gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.

"Do you want to continue?" _Don't look at his mouth. Don't look at his mouth._

"Of course." He finally turns away to look down at his notes and I breathe an inaudible sigh of relief.

We study for around an hour more in the same manner as earlier, and we even manage to get through the entire list of ingredients, before deciding to call it a night. The sky outside turned dark a while ago and when I check the small watch I wear on my left wrist it reads nine o'clock.

"This was useful. We should do it again sometime," Draco says.

"Definitely," I stand. Stretching out my arms above my head, I can feel my v-neck jumper and white shirt lift a little and when I look over at Draco, I see him staring at what must be a glimpse of my toned midriff. He sees that I've noticed his gaze and quickly averts his eyes, and I think I imagine the small blush that rises to his pale cheeks.

We pack our bags and leave the library in silence, and we're about halfway down to the dungeons when Draco finally says, "You know, I never meant for Blaise to accompany us."

I look over to see him scratching the back of his neck, a strangely awkward behaviour that doesn't suit him. "Oh?"

"He just sort of invited himself when I mentioned I was meeting you."

I'm not quite sure what to make of this information. Draco has acted strange since I met him, being nice to me one minute then completely backing off. Does he suspect that I know he's out to kill Dumbledore? Is that why he wanted to meet _alone_?

"Well, I didn't mind." I successfully manage to stop my voice travelling higher like it wants to, and I notice an imperceptible frown appear between Draco's eyebrows.

"Cool."

Silence falls between us again, however we're not far away from the Slytherin Common Room now. When we enter together, we get a couple of questioning looks but for the most part nobody notices.

I don't see Daphne or Pansy anywhere in the room, so I turn to Draco and say, "Well, think I'm going to turn in."

He nods and offers me a smile that doesn't reach his sunken eyes, "Me too. See you, Arachne."

"See you."

And with that, we part ways.

"So, how's Lover Bo- I mean Draco?" Is what I hear as soon as I cross the threshold into the dormitory.

Pansy is lounging on her bed smirking at me over the top of some gossip magazine.

"He's good." I send her a sarcastic smile before dumping my backpack next to my bed and starting to change into my pyjamas.

Daphne, who has just emerged from the bathroom in her own set of silk nightwear and a towel wrapped around her head, comments, "You're back late," with a wink.

"Not you as well," I roll my eyes and drop down onto the edge of my four-poster.

The two girls walk over to where I'm sat, one on either side of me like crows flocking around a dead carcass, and sit on my neatly made bed.

"Spill, Spider Girl."

I sigh and send the girls a withering look, only to receive expectant expressions in return. "There's not much to spill, I'm afraid."

"Is that so?" Pansy raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I showed up at the library and Draco and I studied while Blaise worked on-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait." Daphne holds up a hand to stop me, "Blaise was there?"

"Yeah, apparently Draco told him we were going to study and he invited himself. Draco didn't seem too happy about it."

"I shouldn't imagine he would be." Daphne mutters.

"What?"

"Nothing," she looks surprised as if she's let something slip.

I don't believe her but decide to let it go for the time being, and Pansy snickers, "Well, we have some gossip for you. And by gossip we mean _gossip._"

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah, but you have to promise to keep it on the down low." Pansy and Daphne both lean in close so the other girls in the dorm don't hear.

"I promise," I affirm, my interest fully piqued now.

Daphne and Pansy look at each other conspiratorially before Daphne whispers, "We bumped into Theo on our way back from astronomy last night."

I frown, "Right."

"And his hair and clothes were all messed up."

My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. Pansy squeals quietly, "He looked _ravaged._"

Even if I wanted to hide my shock, I don't think I would be able to at this revelation. I can't believe I didn't suspect Theo at hiding something – I've had him pegged all this time as not much of a threat – and if he's managed to keep this under wraps then I dread to think what the other members of our small group could potentially be getting up to.

"Do you know who it is?" I ask in a low voice.

Daphne shakes her head, "No. And the interesting thing is he refuses to tell us."

"It must be somebody you know then, surely."

Pansy gets up off my bed, her expression thoughtful, "You're right, I didn't think of it that way," then makes her way back to her own emerald four-poster.

Daphne, however, remains where she's sat, "First you and Draco, and now Theo getting some action. I'm starting to think I'll be single forever." She sighs and leans her head in her hand.

I snort, "I am _not _getting any action."

"Either way, you still fancy Draco and there's a potential it could go somewhere."

"Yeah, I suppose," I mumble.

I try to ignore the small bubble of excitement in my chest at the word _potential_.


	10. Chapter 9

_A/N: So I know that Katie Bell isn't actually in the same year as the main characters here – I changed her age slightly to suit my plot – but here's the next chapter. Being in isolation means, although I still have uni work, I do have more time to write and so should hopefully update more over the next few weeks._

_As always, I welcome any and all feedback. Also, feel free to pop me a message about anything if you need someone to chat to; everyone is going through a hard time at the minute and sometimes talking can really help._

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to J.K Rowling._

_X_

Halloween this year is a rather dull affair: the feast is delicious, there's no denying that, but there's nothing about the Frog Choir singing as if they're at a funeral or the first-years pulling pranks on each other that I find fun about the holiday. Also, I suspect the other houses host parties, but the members of Slytherin don't, preferring to conserve their energy for the Christmas celebration.

Katie Bell, however, returns to lessons about midway through November, and that _isn't _a dull affair.

Draco continued to sit next to me in potions during Katie's absence, however we didn't meet again to study and during class the only interactions we had we're regarding the lesson. A small part of me is disappointed that there was nothing more, but a much _much_ larger part is happy with the lack of communication as it has given me the chance to take a step back and review the situation.

You see, I felt fine for the first few days after the howler, but as time has gone on a knot of worry in my chest has been slowly tightening. Regardless of whether I agree with my parents, Draco is _dangerous_ and I have been finding it all too easy to forget he's my target, and my moral compass ironically keeps reminding me of what I have to do.

That's why I decide it can't hurt to talk to Katie.

At the end of the first potions lesson when she's back in class, I grab her arm as our peers swarm out of the dungeon and pull her into an adjacent corridor where the crowd is thinner.

"Is everything alright, Arachne?" Katie questions politely.

"Yes, I just wanted to see how you were doing and I didn't think it appropriate to ask in front of the whole class. Thought you might be sick of the attention." I offer with an attempt at a reassuring smile.

"I'm honestly fine," She shakes her head with a sad look on her face, "And before you ask; I don't remember a thing about the incident. Otherwise don't you think I would have told someone?"

I quell the wave of disappointment that washes over me due to the lack of information and try to keep my face in its caring expression, "You know that's not what I'm asking, Katie. How are _you_ doing? Really?"

At my words, tears spring to her eyes and she wraps her thin arms around herself, "I don't know. It's unsettling that something happened to me and I don't remember a thing about it."

"I can imagine." I step forward with my arms outstretched, hazarding the offer of a hug, to which she gratefully accepts, gripping the back of my jumper with shaking hands. "You know, if you're struggling, I'm here. You can tell me anything."

We break apart after what seems like an age. "I know, Arachne. Thank you."

"That's ok."

I assume our interaction is over and move as if to leave, but Katie suddenly throws a hand out to stop me and looks around to see if anyone is listening, "Look, there is something I remember, but I haven't told anyone. Not even any of the professors."

"Ok…" Hope swells in my chest.

"The person who gave me the necklace – at the Three Broomsticks – at first, I thought it was a hallucination but as time goes by I get more glimpses, more pieces of my memory…"

"Who was it, Katie?"

She looks me dead in the eye and says, "Draco Malfoy."

…

After promising Katie about a million times that I won't tell anyone, I pass through the rest of the day with the information buzzing around my head.

How does this all fit in? Was that cursed necklace meant for Dumbledore? Why would he curse a necklace to give to him in the first place? Of all the times I've seen Dumbledore sat at the teachers' table, I've never seen him wear a necklace. And why Katie? Surely, he could have found someone in a better position to give something to the headmaster.

Nothing about this situation makes sense, I know that much, and if there's anything I have gained from this revelation it's a further reminder that Draco needs to die sooner rather than later.

Entering the Great Hall that evening, I head over to our usual spot. As I get closer, I notice that the only empty space left is next to Draco. _Fucking great. _

I sit on the bench and load up my plate stiffly without saying a word.

"Hey, Spider Girl, Katie Bell was back in classes today, wasn't she?" Pansy asks conversationally.

"Yeah." I bluntly reply without looking up from my plate.

The group must get the vibe that I'm not in a particularly talkative mood as nobody else tries to make conversation with me for the rest of the meal. I'm also painfully aware of Draco sat next to me, his long leg occasionally bumping into mine underneath the table causing me to involuntarily shiver.

"...and I heard that she doesn't remember a thing!"

I tune back into the conversation when Theo says this excitedly, like he's in on some juicy gossip.

Daphne raises an eyebrow, "And where did you get this information from, Theo? She's barely spoken a word to anyone."

Theo's face turns bright red and he chokes on the mouthful of trifle he was eating, "Umm…"

"Information from your mystery lover, is it?" Draco smirks at him and the whole group - minus Theo - laughs, including me.

In a huff, Theo shoves his bowl away and stands up, "What business is it to you?" then storms out of the Great Hall.

Blaise lifts the corner of his mouth, "Too soon, mate."

"Evidently." Is Draco's reply.

Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, and Draco pick up conversation again but I'm immediately back to my thoughts, wondering how Theo fits into this whole mess, if at all. All the information I've gathered so far doesn't quite add up, as if I have all the jigsaw pieces but can't find a way to fit them together, and the more I think about it the more frustrated I get.

With a sigh, I leave dinner early too. Pansy calls after me but I don't know what she says as I'm not paying attention.

I need some time to think.

…

For the next few weeks, I keep my head down, do my homework, go to classes, and spend a lot of time thinking.

I pop into the room with all the junk a couple of times, going back to inspect that strange cabinet, but it looks identical each time I go. I even try to cast a few detection spells on it to see if it has been tampered with it but get no result.

My parents send me a letter not long before Christmas with an apology and a note to say I should stay in Hogwarts over the holiday, which was expected, and that they will contact me again in January. The anxiety that's been building within me since our argument eases a little, as they must have forgiven me for yelling at them to be contacting me at all, and I feel slightly hopeful that they've listened to my opinion and are willing to change their behaviour.

My anxiety over the fact I still haven't killed Draco, however, doesn't diminish; if anything, it gets worse, and I spend many sleepless nights mulling over the entire situation. I start carrying a knife in my backpack, each day vowing to catch him by himself and just end this horror, but every time I see him I chicken out, which makes me even more stressed.

Which brings us to the present: the Slytherin Christmas party is in about an hour and Pansy is giving me a makeover for the event, while Daphne is applying the finishing touches to her outfit before leaving for the Slug Club party.

"Do you think these are too much?" She holds up a pair of dangly earrings which have at least four diamonds in each of them.

Pansy, who's makeup is already finished to perfection and has her dark hair up in curlers, stops straightening my hair with her wand for a moment to regard the jewellery, "I like them with the dress but they clash with your necklace."

Daphne sighs and places the earrings delicately back into her jewellery box. She looks stunning in a black velvet off-the-shoulder dress and silver heels, her honey-coloured waves pulled back into an elegant bun that sits at the base of her neck, however the emerald and gold necklace she currently has on doesn't quite match the rest of the ensemble.

"Why don't you try that silver necklace your mum sent ages ago? You know, the double layered one?" I suggest tentatively, fashion not exactly being my forte.

Her eyes light up, "I completely forgot about that!" and she proceeds to rummage around her belongings to find it.

Pansy chooses that moment to accidently burn the top of my ear.

"Ow! What the fuck."

"Sorry," she says unapologetically, "It'll be worth it though when it's done."

"I highly doubt that."

"I assure you Draco won't be able to keep his eyes off you." Pansy comments suggestively.

"Stop it." I laugh awkwardly, trying to tame the butterflies in my stomach that have been consuming me over the last few days at the thought of Draco attending the party.

Tonight would be the perfect opportunity to just end it all. Lessons have finished until January and the Hogwarts Express leaves for Kings Cross tomorrow, meaning it would be an easy getaway from the scene of the crime. That, coupled with alcohol which will no doubt be available at the party, would provide the perfect cover story of a drunken accident.

But something in my gut tells me I shouldn't.

So my plan is to just play it by ear and if the opportunity does arise, I'm sure I can find a way.

Daphne straightens up wearing the silver necklace and the earrings she showed us a minute ago, "Well?"

"Perfect!" Pansy and I chorus, and she blushes before picking up a small black handbag and making her way to the door.

"Wish me luck." She says before leaving us.

Pansy swaps her wand for a hairbrush and runs it through my now-straight hair, "I think we are done here, Spider Girl."

"Thank Merlin for that." I stand up once she's finished brushing and turn to my trunk which has a mountain of clothes spilling out of it and onto the floor. Next job: deciding what to wear.

I change in the bathroom after rummaging through my garments and settling on a pair of black jeans and a cropped t-shirt that Daphne and Pansy bought on my behalf at Hogsmeade all those weeks ago. Re-entering the dormitory, I notice Pansy has changed into a check mini skirt and a strapless top.

She looks me up and down while pulling the curlers out of her hair, "Love the jeans, but the top doesn't scream 'party' to me."

I look down and tug at my t-shirt self-consciously, "You don't like it?"

"No, I do. But I think I have something better." She walks around her bed, her hair still half undone, and pulls out a scrap of material from her trunk, "Here, try this on."

I go back into the bathroom and change again. The top she's given me is a black halter-neck with an O-ring holding the front together, and whilst this wouldn't be my first choice of clothing, I must admit it looks good on me, which is confirmed when I walk back into the dorm and see Pansy's grin.

"You look _hot_!" Her curlers are all out and she's pulling on a pair of boots, "Now all you need is makeup."

"_No." _I look at her pointedly.

She pouts, "Please_, _just a little bit?"

I guess a touch of makeup can't hurt, and I'm curious to see what I look like since I don't tend to wear it, "Fine, but it has to be the tiniest amount possible."

"Of course!"

She grabs her makeup bag before having me sit on her bed whilst she crouches in front of me to work on my face. It takes her about ten minutes before she takes a step back, smirks and says, "Oh, I am good," before handing me a mirror.

I suppress a gasp when I see my reflection: I don't particularly look _different _as such, but what Pansy has done is enhance my existing features. My eyelashes look at least twice the length with the thin layer of mascara coating them, the bags under my eyes have vanished with a touch of concealer, and my lips look fuller with the pink gloss coating them.

I set the mirror down, "Pansy…"

"Thank me later, Spider Girl." She winks before pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey from the bottom of her trunk, "Shot?"

The party is in full swing when we enter the Common Room. All of the furniture has been moved into one corner, creating a sort of seating area, and a large table holding stacks of cups and bottles of liquor has been pushed against the wall next to the entrance. People are already up and dancing to what looks to be an expensive wireless which is sending vibrations through the floor.

"Pansy! Arachne!" We hear Theo's voice call and we turn simultaneously to see him stood by himself with a cup in his hand.

"Theo!" Pansy bounces over to him, "Where's Draco?"

He shrugs, "No idea, haven't seen him since lunch time."

"Is he coming to the party?" I ask nonchalantly.

"He said he will, but he's been saying a lot of things lately."

_How odd._ I shrug, "I need a drink."

"Me too." Pansy adds, and we head over to the drinks table and help ourselves.

The hype I've heard about this infamous party turns out to be true and I (surprisingly) have a really good time. All thoughts of Draco and the entire situation feel far away as Pansy, Theo and I converse, dance, and even play a few rounds of firewhiskey pong which, although I'm bad at it, is great fun.

I don't realise how drunk I am until I'm sat with Pansy, having lost Theo in the crowd a while ago, on one of the couches in the corner, passing a bottle of firewhiskey between us.

"Tonight has been super fun, Arachne." She slurs, "You're way better to party with than Daphne."

I giggle, grabbing the bottle out of Pansy's hand, "I wonder how her night has been."

"Shit compared to this."

We laugh together, and I gulp down a mouthful of liquor, "I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of disappointed that Draco never showed up," I blurt before slamming my hand over my mouth. _Why did I just say that?_

Pansy only giggles again and leans her head on my shoulder, letting out a small burp, "I'm disappointed too. It's like… I know both of you separately and can see that you'd be so good together, it's just frustrating that you're not."

"Tell me about it," I roll my eyes and laugh. _What is wrong with me?_

The room has been gradually getting warmer as the night has gone on, and I notice a sheen of sweat coating my skin.

_Ew._

I stagger to my feet and mumble, "I'm just going to get some air."

"Sure thing, Spider Girl, I'll be just here," Pansy shuts her eyes lethargically.

I sway towards the Common Room entrance, still clutching the bottle of firewhiskey in my hand. There is still a substantial amount of people on the makeshift dancefloor and I have to squeeze through them to pass.

Eventually, I reach the exit and push out into the corridor beyond.


	11. Chapter 10

_A/N: Well… this is the chapter we've all been waiting for (hopefully!). Lots of drama and emotion for Arachne to digest after this one – please, please, please give me feedback, I'm BEGGING for some criticism (preferably constructive) on my work!_

_Disclaimer: I well and truly do not own the Harry Potter franchise as it is the property of J.K Rowling._

_X_

I stumble out of the Common Room and into the dank hallway of the dungeons. There are a few couples making out and a girl crying with streaks of mascara down her face being comforted by her friends. I scrunch my nose up and take a swig of firewhiskey, sauntering down the corridor and around the corner to where it's quieter.

Leaning against a wall, I'm just taking another mouthful of the horrid liquor when I hear a familiar voice at the other end of the corridor.

Draco?

He rounds the corner with Professor Snape. In my haze, I can't make out what they're saying but it looks like an intense conversation. Snape shoves Draco against one of the stone walls, holding him by the collar of the crisp white shirt he's wearing, and Draco's undone bow tie drops to the floor.

_Wait, was he at the Slug Club event?_ _I thought he wasn't invited._

What they're saying is probably important to my mission, but I find myself not caring. I've been failing thus far, why stop now? Besides, I can't deny that Draco looks hot with his normally-impeccable hair all messed up, and I fantasize about grabbing it while…

I hiccup loudly. Both men turn to look at me and I realise I'm staring. I quickly look away and down the rest of the firewhiskey. Snape whispers one last thing to Draco before storming off with his black robes billowing behind him.

Draco sighs deeply. He stalks in my direction, coming to a halt in front of me.

"Why do you look so frowny, Draco?" I say while brushing the spot between his eyebrows with my index finger. _Merlin_, I'm going to be mortified when I think about this tomorrow.

He catches my hand, causing my heart to leap in my chest, and starts walking deeper into the maze-like dungeon, pulling me along behind him and muttering something along the lines of "Why did Pansy give you alcohol?"

I simply giggle and say, "You know, you should be careful lest I think you're about to murder me or something."

He doesn't laugh and we stop in a random corridor.

"Arachne." He states.

"That is myself," I giggle again. _What is wrong with me?_

"What did you hear just now?"

I squint and slur, "I wasn't really listening."

He sends me a quizzical look, so I continue in my drunken state, "Like you were looking really attractive – more so than usual – and I just couldn't help but -"

I'm cut off by a pair of soft lips on mine. I'm frozen for a second before I come to my senses and start kissing him back hesitantly. His mouth feels warm and amazing, a stark contrast to the cutting words that normally emit from it, and I drop the empty firewhiskey bottle to the ground.

He breaks away, startled at the sudden noise, and takes a few steps back. I feel sad at the sudden coldness.

"Draco," I whisper.

His looks at me, running a hand through his hair, and his silver eyes are the most vulnerable I think I've ever seen them, "What are you doing to me, Arachne?"

"Me? What are you doing to me, more like? You seem to be doing an amazing job of getting under my skin." I sigh heavily and lean back against the cold wall.

"Me under your skin? Ha!" He barks. "You're the one sending me 'fuck me' eyes every five minutes!"

I scoff, "I do not send you 'fuck me' eyes, that is complete bollocks."

"I beg to differ."

"Well, I wouldn't do it if you weren't so strangely good-looking all the time, would I? You're like a puzzle I just can't figure out…" I trail off, not trusting myself to not give away any secrets if I follow that line of thought. "And in any case, you can't deny that there's something between us. Tell me that kiss didn't feel fucking _right _to you." I feel tears start to form at the hopelessness of my situation and try to push them back. _When did I become so weak?_

"Arachne…" Is all I hear before I feel his lean arms around me again. He kisses me angrily and leans his hips into mine, our tongues dancing an urgent duet. He hoists me up higher against the wall and I can't stop the moan I elicit. This seems to encourage him more and he grabs my ass and squeezes. I hook my legs around his back and pull him closer to me. Draco groans into my mouth, making me want to hear it over and over, and he's just moved down to my neck and started sucking at the sweet spot below my ear when I hear a voice say, "Draco? Arachne?"

Just like that the spell is broken again and Draco jumps away from me. I turn to see Theo stood in the middle of the corridor shaking his head incredulously.

"It's not what it looks like, Theo." I say quietly, and it must be the wrong thing as Draco storms off without a word.

I sag back against the wall and slide down until I hit the cold stone floor next to my discarded liquor bottle. Theo walks over and lowers himself to sit beside me.

"What was that about?"

I sigh and run my hands through my hair which is starting to go wavy again at the ends, "I honestly have no idea, he's so hot and cold all the time and then _that_ just happened."

"I completely understand, just… he's going through a lot right now so it's going to take some patience." Theo nudges my shoulder with his apologetically, but I've had enough of the strange sympathy everyone seems to feel for him.

"Like what, Theo? What exactly is he going through? Because everyone keeps hinting at it and nobody is actually _telling _me anything."

A conflicted look graces his features and his eyes flicker back and forth at the internal battle he must be waging in his thoughts, "I… It's really not for me to say. You should probably hear it from him."

I shake my head hopelessly, wondering for a second how much Theo actually knows, "Is it really bad?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Which side you're on." He smiles sadly and I find the expression on his face very un-Theo-like.

This isn't information I don't already know however I can't help but question the loyalties of the small group I'm seemingly now a part of; they're always so light-hearted and _genuine_, the complete opposite to what I imagine wannabe-Death-Eaters would be like. But I suppose I can't comment – I'm meant to be killing one of them, regardless of how successful I've been or not.

Deciding to change the subject, I ask, "Well, you could at least tell me where you disappeared off to tonight?"

At this, Theo lets out a surprised laugh, "I didn't think you noticed I left."

"Well, I notice everything, don't you worry about that." I raise an eyebrow at him jokingly.

Theo chuckles then hesitates for a second before almost-whispering, "I went to see my _mystery lover_, actually," his voice serious.

"Are you going to tell me who it is?"

He stretches out his denim-clad legs in front of him and slumps against the wall, "No. We've both promised not to tell anyone and I'm not one to break a promise."

"How very _noble_ of you, Nott." I tease, to which he grins.

"You know, you're scarily similar to Draco sometimes."

I groan, "_Please_, we just got off that topic. Don't bring it up again."

Theo laughs heartily before shifting away from the cold dungeon wall, "Come on, it's late and we better get back before we're caught."

"Yeah." I agree tiredly, the situation with Draco followed by the conversation with Theo leaving me devoid of any energy.

I feel numb as we walk back to the Common Room in silence, occasionally lifting my fingers to touch my mouth where Draco kissed me earlier.

_Kissed._

I shove the swirling mass of emotion that threatens to consume me to the back of my mind. I know I'll worry incessantly over it tomorrow but for tonight all I want is to go to sleep in my four-poster and forget it ever happened. Well, maybe not _forget _entirely. Just pretend that he's not my target and I'm not meant to be assassinating him.

Pansy is passed out on her bed when I enter the dormitory. _So much for waiting for me on the couch. _The emerald curtains are drawn around Daphne's four-poster, which I'm assuming means she's back and asleep too.

I head to the bathroom to wash the makeup off that Pansy carefully applied earlier, and when I look up at my reflection in the mirror, water running down my face and off my jaw, I can't stop the wide grin that forms.

…

The next day is _awkward_, for lack of a better word.

I miss breakfast due to my hungover state, and instead watch as Daphne and Pansy both pack the remainder of their belongings hurriedly before the Hogwarts Express leaves for London. I don't tell them about the _interaction _Draco and I had, and Pansy doesn't question why it took me so long to return after leaving the party. I suppose she was too drunk to remember.

Daphne drags her trunk to the door, which looks like a struggle as she's also carrying a large gold owl cage and her leather satchel, the latter of which is full to the brim with schoolwork. She reaches her destination and turns around, breathily commenting, "Thanks for the help, Spider Girl."

I smirk weakly at her and nestle myself further into my duvet, "Anytime."

She rolls her eyes at me before her gaze slides to Pansy, who notices and shouts, "Salazar, I'm almost done don't yell at me!" whilst throwing her belongings around ungracefully.

"I never said anything," Daphne shrugs, half-amused, half-annoyed.

"But I know what you were about to say," Pansy proceeds to sit heavily on the lid of her expensive trunk, most of the contents hanging out the sides, and attempts to fasten it shut.

Daphne just rolls her eyes, "Well, I'm going to wait with the boys in the Common Room. You coming to say goodbye, Arachne?"

"Yeah, I just need to freshen up. I'll meet you out there."

Daphne nods and leaves, and I get up slowly and pad into the bathroom. My stomach is in turmoil, partly because of the vast amount of alcohol that has recently left my system, and partly due to the fact I might see Draco. I've still not processed the events that transpired last night at all, so I hope our interaction is minimal if he is there.

After brushing my teeth and my hair and changing out of my pyjamas into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, I make my way to the door leaving the dormitory. Pansy is still struggling to shut her trunk, but when I offer assistance, she says, "I appreciate the thought, Spider Girl, but please _fuck off_."

So I do as told, shakily opening the door and drifting down the hallway to the Common Room. I spot Daphne stood by the fireplace with Blaise and Theo, no Draco in sight, and breathe a sigh of relief before walking over to them.

"The dead has arisen," Theo jokes when I'm within earshot and I merely smile sarcastically at him in reply.

"You sure you'll be alright here alone, Arachne?" Daphne asks sympathetically.

I wave her off, "Of course. I won't have you lot annoying me at every waking moment - I'm considering this a vacation."

I lean back against a nearby armchair and survey the room. Whoever cleaned up the mess from last night did a good job: there's not a scrap of evidence indicating there was a party here mere hours ago, and for the most part nobody looks overly worse for wear.

"Good morning," A familiar voice drawls, and I groan inwardly. Turning my head back to the group, I see Draco has arrived with his trunk and a small holdall-type bag, his blond hair slightly damp from a morning shower.

His grey eyes sweep over everyone before settling on me. My chest feels hollow as I say, "Morning," in an attempt to act normal.

He takes in my current state and starts, "You look…" with a hint of amusement in his expression.

When he doesn't continue, I roll my eyes and say, "_Radiant_ is the word I believe you're looking for."

The corners of Draco's mouth turn up into an almost imperceptible smirk and his gaze drops unashamedly to my lips. I pretend to cough, hiding my mouth in the process. Does this boy _want _people to know?

Our exchange doesn't go unnoticed as Daphne asks, "Why is the atmosphere suddenly weird in here?" while giving me a pointed look.

I shrug and am about to try and answer when Pansy finally arrives, saving me from this embarrassing ordeal. She drags her heavy trunk over and stops when she reaches us, grinning triumphantly.

"Morning all!"

"You're more chipper than expected," Blaise comments dryly, and she makes a rude gesture at him.

Theo checks his wristwatch and says, "We best be going, guys."

I can't help but glance at Draco and notice there's something new in his expression. Fear? No, maybe not quite fear, but definitely a level of nervousness, almost as if he's worried about going home. _I wonder what could be so dreadful that he wouldn't want to leave._

"Well, I'm going to lay in bed for the rest of the day. Have a good Christmas, everyone." I stand up fully and move as if to return to the dorm, but Pansy pulls me into a bone-crushing hug.

"Have a good one, Spider Girl!"

When she doesn't release me, I say, "You can let go now."

"Sorry." She apologises and steps back.

"I'm just letting you know that I'm not a hugger," Daphne says.

I shoot her a look, "I wouldn't want you hugging me anyway," and stick my tongue out.

Theo and Blaise bid me farewell, but Draco only nods once at me, barely even making eye contact. I mentally berate myself when a small wave of disappointment washes over me at his lack of acknowledgment. I shouldn't be letting my happiness depend on someone else, much less my _target_ of all people.

_Yeah, but you did kiss him. _

People kiss each other all the time, it's not a big deal.

_You like him though, which IS a big deal._

I'm not allowed to like him, I'm meant to be kill-

My internal war is cut off by everyone shuffling their trunks to the Common Room exit. I say goodbye once more before heading back to the dormitory and climbing into bed sullenly, only to stare up at the canopy of my four-poster and fight back tears.

I lied when I said I'd be fine over the holiday: I know I'm going to be utterly miserable.


	12. Chapter 11

_A/N: Firstly, apologies for not updating in so long – I still have exams despite being stuck at home so my focus has really been on them rather than writing. Secondly, I have been finding it really hard to continue this story. It hasn't come out the way I envisioned it and I'm not completely happy with the way I've written some of it (mainly the earlier chapters). I've known this for months and originally had planned to just power through and edit once I'd finished, but honestly I might just give it all a massive overhaul now and carry on from there. _

_What I'm trying to say is this might be the last update for a while. I'll leave the chapters I've already uploaded on, but I will be editing and replacing them before concentrating on the next part of the story. I'm really sorry and I hope you do come back to this once I've sorted it all out. _

_Lastly, I hope everyone is doing well during this time. It's been difficult for everyone and if you need someone to talk to please don't hesitate to pop me a message. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. _

_X_

After wallowing in self-despair for approximately twenty-four hours, I decide to spend some time in the library researching the strange cabinet in the room on the seventh floor.

On the first day, I look through the main section of the library but come up short. Not even _Magical Objects and Their Functions, _one of the biggest and most comprehensive books I've ever come across,holds any information. So I leave at curfew with a feeling of bitter disappointment and a vow to find _alternative _means of information.

Which is how, on the second day, I find myself at the table closest to the restricted section, head down and scribbling random doodles onto a piece of parchment, with a couple of books propped open in front of me so it looks like I'm doing homework. Not that there's anyone around to notice: the library is dead with everyone gone for the holidays, but it can't hurt to be careful just in case.

Glancing around surreptitiously, I get to my feet silently and walk over to the large onyx-coloured iron gate set in the centre of the matching fence which guards the restricted section. As I near, though, I can feel an invisible force pushing me away, and when I reach my hand towards the latch it just slides off the air in front.

_Fuck, I didn't think it would be charmed. _

I look around me again then back at the gate. There must be _some _way to get in – I swear I overheard a conversation in here once where some fifth-year was bragging about sneaking in. It was probably all bravado, but that doesn't mean there _isn't _a way. My eyes slide over the fence and when realisation hits me, I run my hand down my face exasperatedly.

I'm going to have to climb my way in.

Heading swiftly back to my belongings, I pack them all into my backpack before choosing the part of the fence closest to the wall in the corner where nobody will see me. I swing my bag up and over first, casting a cushioning charm on the ground on the other side in the process, before following suit.

I make it over with no trouble and dust myself off before grabbing my bag again and heading deeper into the shelves. There's barely any light here so I have to strain my eyes to see, but I daren't cast a _Lumos_ in case I'm noticed. A thick layer of dust coats everything and half the books are chained to the shelves. I dread to know why.

The shelves don't seem to have subject labels on them, so I brush some dust off the spine of the nearest book which causes me to sneeze quietly into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. _Perfecting Unforgivable Curses, _it reads. No thank you.

This is how I spend the next hour; reading the spines of a few books on each shelf to see if there's a pattern. It turns out there isn't, and I finish the entire section without having made any progress. Sighing deeply, I find a patch of ground which looks the least mouldy and sit down before pulling an orange out of my backpack which I snuck from breakfast.

I'm just starting to peel the outer layer away when I glance up to see a cardboard box underneath the shelf directly in front of me.

_How strange. _

Abandoning my snack, I pull the box out and notice it's full of what looks to be magazines. _Why would they be here and not on a shelf? _I grab one and brush some dust off the cover.

_BORGIN AND BURKES' ANTIQUE CATALOGUE_

_Issue 832, March 1990_

I've never heard of a 'Borgin and Burkes' before. Flicking through the pages randomly, I notice it's mainly full of dark artefacts and antiques containing dark magic. I suppress a shiver and look through another issue, browsing quickly, when a familiar shape catches my eye and I turn back a few pages.

_The cabinet. _I stare at the picture on the page with wide eyes. Even the markings on the side are identical, however, this cabinet looks much newer than the one upstairs.

I lower my gaze to the description underneath:

_VANISHING CABINET_

_Wait until you get your hands on this rare item! A trend from the 50s, only a handful were crafted before being phased out of production. Each cabinet has a direct counterpart and a witch or wizard need only stand or place an object within_ _to travel between the two. Despite only having one of these cabinets in stock (in pristine condition, might we add), the lucky buyer would have the adventure of finding out where it's partner lives, and we will be accepting bids starting from…_

The rest of the listing goes on to detail how the bidding process works, which I gloss over quickly before looking at the picture once again. Was this cabinet ever sold? And if so, is the cabinet at Hogwarts it's partner? That would explain why they have the same detailing on the outside, but there's no way to guarantee it's not the same one. Would someone have bought it then left it in the clutter-filled room?

With these thoughts swirling through my head, I rip the page out of the catalogue and stuff it in my backpack, along with my uneaten orange, then kick the box gently back underneath the shelf and out of sight. I make my way back to the fence and throw my bag over, just as I did earlier, and follow behind it, however when I swing my leg over the top I hear a throat clear itself causing my grip to falter and I jump down shakily.

I turn to see a pair of startling green eyes staring at me from a nearby shelf.

"What were you doing in the restricted section?" Potter asks bluntly.

_None of your fucking business, _is what I desperately want to reply, but I don't want unnecessary attention - especially from The Boy Who Lived – so I settle on, "Oh, I was just curious, is all."

"Curious…"He repeats, the disbelief evident in his voice.

I involuntarily snap, "Yes, and I don't see how it's got anything to do with _you_, Potter."

Recognition sparks on his face and he runs a hand through his unkempt black hair, "Wait, you're that Slytherin girl, aren't you? You're friends with… err… Malfoy."

I clench my jaw slightly at Draco's name, but Potter's slip of the tongue doesn't go unnoticed. He was about to say a somebody else's name, but I'm not in the mood to hang around any longer.

"Yes, Draco and I are _friends._" I say with a bit more acidity than necessary, then grab my bag and start walking away from Potter, "Now, if you don't mind, I wish to excuse myself from this conversation."

And without waiting for a reply I leave the library.

…

The Vanishing Cabinet is broken.

I huff and sit on a nearby stool. I am back in the room with all the random items, where I've spent all of my waking hours in the past week after finding that article, examining the Cabinet. It's Christmas tomorrow, and after that there's only a week or so before the student body will be returning to the castle.

Including _Draco_.

Spending a week mostly in solitude really gives a person time to think. Especially about a certain person and a certain interaction that happened the day before said week of solitude.

And I feel completely and utterly torn in two about it.

Half of me is kicking myself, berating myself, telling myself that what happened was _reckless_, all of it: drinking myself into that state, not listening to what Draco and Snape were arguing about, getting noticed by them, and the subsequent kiss. This is the half of me saying I've wasted four months, four _fucking _months, when I should have killed him already. And that the kiss should definitely not, under-no-circumstance, have happened.

But then the other half of me is a totally different story and makes me truly wonder if I have some sort of split personality disorder. This half is the one that gets butterflies every time I think of that night. This half is the one that notices the light catching his hair and the quirk of his mouth when I say something he finds amusing. This half is the one that is desperately screaming at me that I _like _him and need to stop denying my feelings.

And all of these thoughts make me dizzy and excited and frustrated. Frustrated at the situation. Frustrated at the world. But mostly frustrated with myself.

I sigh heavily and bring myself back to the task at hand: the Vanishing Cabinet. I've tried putting an array of items in the Cabinet itself to see if they would transport themselves, having had about a forty-percent success rate, and when the items have been sent back by whoever owns its partner, there have been pieces missing – a latch off a jewellery box, a tassel off a cushion, and so on – and I have long since discarded the stolen catalogue page after having committed it to memory on the first day here.

So that's why I decide to write a note.

Alarm bells in my head tell me not to and I know I should listen to them. It's hardly subtle _or _conducive to my mission, however the desire to know wins out against my better judgement.

_To Whom It May Concern-_

No, that's too formal. I hastily rip the parchment and start again.

_Dear Sir/Madam-_

I don't like that either. I run a hand through my hair before giving it another go.

_Greetings, _

_I am just writing to see if you can provide any information regarding these Vanishing Cabinets? I have recently stumbled upon this one and have found it to be broken – do these things generally require specialist attention?_

_Yours_

That'll do. Whoever is on the other side _should _be able to shed some light. I just hope they don't have any ties that could sabotage me.

I fold the parchment up and place it gingerly in the Cabinet, before shutting the large doors and taking a step back. My parents would throw a fit if they knew what I was up to but at this point I hardly care – besides, I doubt they'll ever find out. I haven't spoken to them since their last letter, and I'm not expecting a present from them tomorrow. We're not the type of family that really does Christmas.

I sit on the stool again, my hands itching to reopen the Cabinet. I give it about five minutes before caving and opening the doors again, but there's nothing there. With a small surge of disappointment, I sigh and return to my perch.

The next four hours pass in a similar manner, and when the clock chimes nine I decide to call it a night and return to the empty dorm.

Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow.

…

The next morning, I wake to no presents at the end of my bed.

As I said, my parents don't really do Christmas, and due to the fact I couldn't go to Hogsmeade during the term, us Slytherin lot agreed not to do presents this year. Well, at least not between me and the group.

I honestly wish I could have gone and bought gifts for everyone – that I could do something fucking _normal_ for once and not feel guilty about it. And I don't think I can recall the last time I sat with other people at Christmas and had a good time. I realise that I long for it. Crave it. The presence of others, of _friends_, that has been vacant for the last week really making the point hit home.

But dwelling on these thoughts will only make me more miserable, so I stretch deeply, my bones cracking and echoing round the empty dorm. Getting up, I don't notice the small letter that's been left on top of the trunk at the foot of my four-poster until I've brushed my teeth, washed my face, and returned to change out of my nightwear before heading to breakfast.

Eventually, I spy the foreign parchment and pick it up delicately, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. _Why on Earth would I have a letter?_ My thoughts initially jump to Draco, however my name on the front has definitely not been written in his deliberate cursive, but rather a rough chicken-scratch.

I unfold the thick paper and read through the message. Twice. I feel sick and have to sit back down on my unmade bed, breathing deeply to stop myself from emptying what little content is in my stomach.

I don't think anything could have prepared me for this.


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N: Hi, I've finished uni and am off until October, so I'm back to the original plan of finishing this story then maybe going back to edit it once it's complete. _

_I'm also planning another story at the minute, which isn't fanfic, and I aim to get a couple of chapters of that one out over on my Wattpad (which is NimbusStormx) before the end of summer. _

_So without further ado, here is the next chapter! It took an unexpected twist but I quite like it. Please please please let me know what you think, and as always I am open to messages. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything that belongs to the Harry Potter universe._

_X_

The second half of the Christmas holiday passes far quicker than I like, and before I know it the Hogwarts Express has made its way back from London.

I pull my coat tighter around my body, the icy January weather causing a chill to settle deep within my bones. Groups of students head towards where I'm stood leaning against one of the outer castle walls by the grand entrance, and I crane my neck to see if I can spot any of our group.

Not that I particularly want to see them – not in the state I've been in since Christmas day. I have barely left the girls dormitory over the past week and I know my face looks gaunt and my limbs look frail as I haven't been in the Great Hall to eat most days, and when I have my appetite has been non-existent. And all of this because of some mysterious letter.

Before I can stop myself, the words come back to haunt my mind again.

_Miss Arachne Messer, _

_I know why you're at Hogwarts and I know who you work for. Asking questions and bringing attention to yourself is not wise, little girl, so consider this message a warning: either keep to yourself or leave while you still can. I will not ask again. Nor will my seniors. _

_You will do well to heed these words, or the consequences will be unsavoury. _

I shiver, but not because of the cold. Off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone who would be aware of my identity or my true purpose for being at Hogwarts, unless there's a mole in the family operation. But even then, I've known everyone involved since before I could walk and would trust them with my life.

Logically, it would make sense if this was the same person who blocked my attempts at killing Draco, however there's no real plausible reason as to why they would wait until now to threaten me when the last attempt I made was back in October. Another option is that this was in reply to the letter I sent through the Vanishing Cabinet, but why would it be so hostile?

People pass by me into the warmth of the Entrance Hall. I hope I don't have to wait too long out here; I don't think my frayed nerves can take it. Despite the letter and the stress in regards to its sender, I'm still nervous about seeing Draco and haven't yet decided how to feel.

I eventually spot Pansy's raven black hair and push myself off the wall. Strolling over to her, I notice she's in deep conversation with Draco – Daphne, Blaise and Theo nowhere in sight. I have half a mind to turn and leave, but before I can act on it she spots me and comes bounding over.

"Spider Girl!" Pansy grips me in a fierce hug then takes a step back and grabs my shoulders, tilting her head up to take in my face since she's a couple of inches shorter than me, "Is everything alright?"

I laugh but it sounds hollow, "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

She scrutinizes my face for a few seconds, her brow slightly furrowed, before shrugging and stepping back with an air of nonchalance, "No reason."

I look over at Draco, and it's only then I notice the greenish bruising around his left eye and the half-healed gash in his lower lip. His skin looks even more deathly pale than usual and he's lost weight, making his jaw appear razor sharp and his cheekbones more prominent.

"Arachne," he acknowledges me politely.

"Draco," I say in kind, and before I can ask him how his Christmas was, he excuses himself and walks off.

"What's that about?" I ask Pansy.

She stares at his back and chews her lip for a second before linking her arm through mine and starting towards the castle, "Trouble at home. As you have probably heard, his father was released from Azkaban a few days before Christmas."

"No, actually, I didn't hear," I reply quietly with a sinking heart.

"Oh, well I don't know _how _you didn't hear since there was an enormous feature in the Prophet…" I zone out of Pansy's ramblings and think about what must have happened to him at home for him to return looking like he'd been used as a punching bag. Is this what he was worried about before boarding the train before Christmas?

I cut off Pansy's monologue, "Where are the others?"

"Blaise and Daphne caught a different carriage to Draco and I and Salazar knows where Theo is. Probably sharing bodily fluids in some dark corner."

We reach the top of the dungeon staircase and share a smirk before descending, "Did he tell you I caught him out at the Christmas party?"

"No, what happened?"

"I bumped into him when I went to get some air. He'd left the party to see his _lover_ and thought we wouldn't notice."

"To be fair, I didn't notice and you wouldn't have either had you not stepped outside," Pansy turns to walk backwards so she's facing me and raises her brow, "_You_ were gone a long time, from what I recall."

I force a self-deprecating smile to my face and say, "I had a _lot _to drink and decided that wandering a few corridors would be fun. Until I got lost," shoving the memory of what really happened to the back of my mind.

"Lost? You? I don't believe it for a second, Miss Cool-Calm-And-Collected." She laughs but there's a glint in her eyes that suggests in not entirely in jest.

"Well, sorry to disappoint but I can't be perfect _all _the time."

We arrive at the common room and make our way inside before moving to sit on one of the couches. The room itself isn't that busy, with most students still greeting their friends or in their dormitories unpacking, but I find the low murmur of voices in the background comforting after the silence of the last two weeks.

Pansy and I talk idly about the Christmas holiday for a while before Daphne and Blaise enter the common room, shortly followed by Theo, whose collar is suspiciously turned up against his neck.

"Happy New Year all," he says laconically but I don't miss the underlying note of happiness in his voice.

"Hickey on the first day? You work fast, Nott." I tease and Theo tries and fails to send me a glare and ends up smiling while the others laugh and tease him too. And it seems, as if by magic, things are back to normal, the threatening letter and my mission worlds away.

But I know it's an illusion.

…

After a delicious welcome-back-feast, which I hardly touch and where Draco was notably absent, I head back to the Slytherin common room where the five of us talk and play exploding snap - which I don't particularly enjoy since there's no skill involved - until late. Daphne heads to bed first at around eleven, shortly followed by Blaise and Pansy and then finally Theo, leaving me with the dwindling fire and my thoughts for company.

I'm turning over Draco's beaten up face in my mind when the common room entrance creaks open and light footsteps sound on the carpet. I suddenly feel pathetic at the realisation I've been waiting for him, so I hunker down in the armchair I'm sat on, my head no longer visible from behind.

But it's too late.

Draco reclines on the couch adjacent to me, resting his feet on the mahogany coffee table in front of him, and shuts his eyes. The gash on his lip seems more prominent in the low light and he looks _exhausted. _Sympathy rises in my chest and I don't try to dampen it. _How am I going to kill someone who already looks so defeated?_

With false confidence, I ask, "Are you going to tell me why you look like you've been hit by the Knight Bus?"

He cracks open a dull grey eye and tilts his head in my direction, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, "_Radiant _is what I believe you're looking for."

I let out a huff of a laugh at his parroting of my words and shift my gaze to the fire. He continues, "Also, I hardly think you can comment since you look awful too."

Another huff of air escapes me and before I can stop myself, I comment, "That's not what you thought before Christmas."

Silence. I wait a beat before looking over at Draco again and this time both of his eyes are open and staring at his feet, his expression closed and unreadable.

"Well, maybe what happened before Christmas shouldn't have happened at all."

My chest tightens. He's right and I know it. The kiss definitely should not have happened but the irrational side of me is_ angry_.

"If I recall correctly, _you're _the one who kissed me first," I snap, the words harsh against my throat.

He finally looks at me fully. "And if _I _recall correctly, you didn't push me away. In fact, you encouraged me."

I get to my feet abruptly, "That suggests that what happened wasn't a mistake then, doesn't it?"

"Perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that upon reflection I regret it."

Regret? Of the range of emotions I've been experiencing since the kiss, I don't think regret was one of them, and I'm left speechless at his retort. I open my mouth hoping something will spring to mind, but Draco stands up too and towers over me, muttering, "If you don't mind, I need to get to bed."

I shut my mouth and school my features into a blank expression, "Of course. Goodnight, Malfoy."

Moving past him to the girls' dormitory, I hear him say, "Goodnight, Messer," in an equally bored tone and then the light tread of feet moving the other way.

Once in the dorm, I creep to the bathroom and cast a _muffliato _before shattering the nearest mirror with my fist.

…

"_You _were up late last night, Spider Girl."

I shoot Pansy a sarcastic smile in the midst of piling breakfast onto my plate, but don't bother to correct her. I _was _up late last night; after the encounter with Draco I spent hours breaking and repairing the mirrors in the bathroom over and over again, angry with myself. With the situation. With the world.

But with that anger came clarity. And now I know what I have to do.

"Have you guys done the assigned reading for charms?" Daphne asks Blaise and I, and we fall into casual conversation.

Until Draco turns up.

"Morning," he says quietly and sits as far away from me as possible.

This only makes me smile sweetly and remark, "Look at that, Pansy, seems Draco had an even later night than me."

His fingers twitch where they rest on the rough wood of the table and he turns his head away from the group.

"Yeah…" Pansy smiles at me with a questioning frown.

An uncomfortable silence falls over us all but I continue eating my breakfast merrily, tapping my foot in a rhythm against the floor, the switchblade I stashed in my boot this morning prodding my ankle with every beat.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" Blaise asks me, eyeing my hands and trying and failing to mask the curiosity in his voice with politeness.

"I'm cold." The lie rolls off my tongue easily because the last thing I'm going to say is that they're to cover my torn-up knuckles, amongst other reasons if my plan turns south.

"Ah."

The silence returns and isn't broken until benches start scraping against the stone floor as people start rising and heading towards their first lesson of the day. I'm careful to make sure I get up last out of our group and trail behind them by a couple of paces.

Daphne and Blaise have arithmancy first, Pansy has a free period, Theo has transfiguration, and Draco and I have double potions, but as each member of the group turns in their respective directions in the crowd, I grab Draco's elbow and covertly pull him into a small antechamber off the Entrance Hall.

"What the fu-"

I cut him off by kicking the door shut while pulling the knife from my boot and shoving him hard against the nearest wall. I rest the tip of my blade against the nearly-translucent skin of his neck.

"What's this about, Messer?" He spits out, and I push the blade further, almost drawing blood.

"I don't think you're in a position to ask questions, _Draco_."

His shoulders drop defeatedly and the haughty line of his mouth softens a fraction at the use of his given name.

I narrow my eyes, "I knew it."

He raises an eyebrow in question and I drag the switchblade lethargically along the line of his jaw until it's propped under his chin. "You didn't mean what you said last night."

"Yes, I did," he replies quickly, and it would have been convincing if his voice didn't waver at the end.

I grin wickedly and move in closer, so my mouth is millimetres away from his ear, "I don't believe you."

"What's not to believe?"

I reply by pressing my lips against his sharp cheekbone. His eyes flutter closed, as if of their own accord. I step back but keep the knife firmly where it is.

"I don't want to hurt you, Draco, but you and I both know that what we want is irrelevant in the situation we have found ourselves in," I finally remove the switchblade and collapse it in my palm, but Draco's silver gaze never leaves my own.

"We can either be friends or enemies," I continue, giving him the ultimatum I came up with at around three a.m. surrounded by blood and glass, "come and find me when you've made up your mind."

I conceal the knife deftly and move to leave, but as my hand touches the door handle Draco speaks, "Weeks ago you said we could never be friends, Arachne, and I think you were right." I look at him over my shoulder as he takes a few steps towards me and runs a hand through his hair shakily, "It's either enemies or more-than-friends. There is no in between."

I smirk slightly, "Then there's all the more to play for."


	14. Author's Note

Author's Note:

Hi! This is just a note to apologise for the fact that I haven't updated in so long, and to explain precisely why.

I've been writing this fic. Mostly.

I've completely overhauled and redrafted the chapters that are already published on here – most of the plot is the same, but the writing is better (_way _better) – and I've finished the story completely at around 106k words.

Yes, you read correctly, I've _finished _it. The first draft, anyhow.

So, the plan moving forward is to quickly redraft and then start getting the chapters uploaded, replacing all the ones that are here already. In the meantime, I will leave them up, but please please _please _give the new ones a go, even if you don't like the existing ones, because the writing is different and the content is just so much better.

Anyway, that's all I came here to say.

Hope everyone is keeping safe and I'll be in touch soon with the new and improved (and finished) version of _Assassin_.

N.S

x


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